It's Casual
by greyandpink
Summary: Hermione's enemies with benefits relationship with Draco was tough enough to handle. That is, until one of his roommates goes missing a few weeks into term. Whether anyone wants her to or not, Hermione's solving this case.
1. Chapter One

**Monday, September 16, 1996**

"You don't have to stay." The condescension booming in Draco's voice flipped the switch in Hermione back to reality. Could she not bloody once, just _once_ , have thirty seconds of blissful silence post-orgasm? Of course not.

"Feel safe in knowing that's the last thing I want." The stone chilled Hermione's feet to the bone as she dropped them to the bedside. She immediately began reaching for the closest clothing she saw, first was her pleated skirt draped on the bed's corner.

Two weeks of this _thing_ they were doing had yet to make them civil to one another, and she still couldn't imagine a world in which it could. As selfish and horrible as it all was, it was just _so_ good. Nearly good enough to make up for who she was doing it with.

"Yes, _please_ tell me even _more_ about what you want, Granger." Draco released an aggravated groan of exasperation, his eyes rolling back. _"Harder, faster, lower, to the left._ " He put on a voice to mimic Hermione's. "All I've heard for the last hour and a half is what you _want_." Draco tucked a hand underneath his head, stretched lazily across the bed.

Hermione could not _believe_ he thought she would sound so breathy and high-pitched and incessant.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with me being communicative in a sexual interaction, Malfoy. As if you kept quiet, practically willing to lose a leg just for me to blow you." Hermione snapped, turning to burn into Draco's eyelids with her glare.

"I _was not_ that adamant a-"

"You nearly snapped my neck pushing my head down!" Hermione paused after snapping on her bra to take a step toward the bed, a palm in waving in the air in exclamation. "Not that adamant – my arse!"

As glad as Hermione was that she could yell into Draco's arrogant face without fearing being overheard, she had no want to know how he had been able to clear the dorm of pesky roommates yet again.

"How am I to be at fault for your lacking in reciprocation?" His pale nose was stuck in the air in a way that made Hermione nearly think of snapping it right off of his _smug_ and _pretentious_ and _condescending_ face.

"As if you're just always going down on me. Let me know when you rejoin _reality_ , Malfoy." Hermione had begun buttoning her shirt, and in her haste was fastening the buttons one hole higher than they were meant for.

"I do _plenty_ down there, I will have you know!" Draco seethed, so affronted at her accusation that he sat up in the bed to properly express his offence.

"For thirty seconds until you get bored!"

"Who died and made you the master of time? You wouldn't know thirty seconds if it pulled the wand from your hand!" Draco reached out to grab Hermione's arm, pulling her back next to his bed. "I'll show you thirty seconds. _Insufferable_."

Together they began to undo the buttons she had just finished. He was all _lips_ and _teeth_ and _tongue_ everywhere on her. Hermione's mind went blank in the way only Draco could cause.

 **Wednesday, September 18, 1996**

Hermione was torn. Porridge or corn flakes? She had been trying to make a decision for a minute or so, and was staring at them both in thought when Ron arrived at the breakfast table.

"Asleep already?" Ron's voice shook Hermione from the daze, and she shook her head as she reached to make a bowl of corn flakes.

"Lost in thought, I guess."

Ron nodded in understanding while heaping a large pile of eggs in front of him. "Aren't planning to take a break to celebrate your birthday, are you?" He looked to Hermione then, giving a small humorous grin.

"I can't say I currently have plans to stop thinking tomorrow, no." Hermione had given little thought to her birthday, and was honestly surprised that Ron had brought it up at all. "I guess I might take a trip to Hogsm-"

"Morning," came Dean's voice as her arrived, moving to sit next to Hermione.

Hermione simply nodded in response, still not fully awoken for the morning.

"See Harry this morning?" Ron asked Dean, scanning the Hall's entrance for his friend.

"Didn't see him before I left." Dean shrugged, not looking up from his toast.

Hermione sighed, filling a mug of coffee. "I hope all's okay." She clenched her fingers around the mug and scanned the room herself. In time, Hermione had simply grown accustomed to feeling nervous about Harry. It seemed to come with the territory.

"Probably sleeping through breakfast." Ron supplied halfway through a bite of bacon. "Hey!" He perked, taking a moment to swallow what food was left in his mouth.

Awoken by the sudden excitement, Hermione looked to Ron, alert.

"They might cover your birthday in the _Hogwarts Free Press_!"

Dean chuckled, "I heard they covered Parkinson's last week. Bloody ridiculous. Thing said she had three different parties since term started."

" _Hogwarts Free Press_?" Hermione quirked a brow.

Dean looked to her in jest, a wide grin splitting his lips. "Haven't you heard?"

"A few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs started their own Hogwarts newspaper, out every Friday. Things a right laugh!" Ron chuckled.

Hermione scoffed at the idea, "Perfect, a hard copy of the day before's gossip." She took a sip of her coffee, still considering the idea. "Parkinson's parties almost seem above what I would expect from them. I'm sure it was front page news." She quipped dryly.

"First edition came at the start of term, just bloody rubbish." Ron laughed wholeheartedly at the thought, looking at Dean's smiling face.

" _The next night's party rolls by as a who's who of Hogwarts upperclassmen_ ," Ron heightens his voice.

" _Draco Malfoy arrives fashionably late to the festivities held in his on-again off-again girlfriend's honor._ " Hermione bristles at Dean's humorous imitation.

Hearing Draco's name was a piercing reminder for Hermione, as she was still shocked by herself every time she thought of what they'd done. _Multiple times!_ To imagine if her name had been splashed across the trashy new paper alongside his! Just the thought of that happening gave Hermione a new fear to worry over. If her friends ever found out- she just didn't want to think of it.

"Still taking the piss out of that Hufflepuff paper?" Harry joined the table, smiling at the thought as he looked from Dean to Ron.

"As long as they keep printing it!" Dean joked, still amused by his own antics.

The group continued ragging on the paper for a few minutes until Seamus came to pull Dean away, likely telling of the previous night's rendezvous.

"Sleep late?" Hermione asked, looking at Harry over her half empty mug.

"Opposite, up early to meet with Dumbledore." Harry responded morosely, seemingly unhappy with the tradeoff.

Ron looked to the students around them, searching for eavesdroppers in the Great Hall's morning rush. "Again?" He paused, glancing over to Hermione. "Is everything alright?"

Hermione's shoulders tensed, waiting for Harry's response. The question was reasonable, as frequent visits to Dumbledore rarely spelled anything but trouble in her best friend's life. Everyone with two eyes had realized the wizarding world was on the verge of war, and their group knew that they had somehow become the ones walking closest to the cliff.

"Only once," Harry huffed. "Ended up not being able to see him the other night. It was weird." Harry took his own glance around the table, scanning for suspicious movement.

Over the pause, Hermione could clearly hear Seamus' tale a few seats over. _Circle thing with her hips – bloody brilliant._

"I was almost to his office when I saw two Aurors walking inside." Harry continued. The group exchanged glances, all wondering what could have been discussed. "I didn't have to wait long until Snape showed up as well."

Hermione immediately began trying to analyze the situation. "Had- did Dumbledore know you were coming to meet?"

"He wanted to discuss me working on Occluemency again."

"Not a bad idea," Ron muttered.

Hermione nodded, "It likely wouldn't be a bad idea for us all to learn." She paused, "We've become targets as well. Anyone could see into our mind and learn about the Order or where Harry is."

"It's a horrible thing," Harry responded immediately. "It's bloody torture to learn."

Hermione gripped her nearly empty mug with both hands. She could only imagine what had been discussed in Dumbledore's office, and for all she knew the truth was even worse.

Ron made a face as though he had just swallowed a bug. "'Mione's probably right, though."

"Dumbledore wants me to ask Slughorn to teach me." Harry made a face, scrunching his nose at the concept.

Hermione shook her head lightly, "Wait. Did Dumbledore want you to see them walking in?" She asked Harry.

Harry gave a shrug of exasperation, looking noncommittal. "It's possible. When I asked him about it this morning he wouldn't give anything away."

"What'd he end up actually saying?" Ron looked between Harry and Hermione's pensive faces.

"I asked what the meeting about, why Snape was there, if he knew they were coming. Nothing, he just kept talking about Occlumency."

Blinking, Hermione thought on his answer. "He must be trying to say something, you know Dumbledore." Hermione paused, still trying to bridge the gap in logic. "Were the Aurors here about Slughorn, are you supposed to learn something else in the lessons?"

Harry shook his head, "Why would Snape be there then? If Dumbledore was going to tell him about the situation with Slughorn, why not wait until after the meeting?"

"Maybe he was just blowing you off, Harry." Ron added, speaking over a mouthful of eggs. "Slughorn might be a different thing."

The group thought on this for a moment before Hermione piped up again. "Okay, whether he wanted you to see the meeting or not, what was it about?"

"Snape, Aurors, Dumbledore?" Ron put a hand up, assuming the answer obvious. "Voldemort or Malfoy."

Hearing his name so casually be thrown in with such evil made Hermione's stomach churn. Even worse, the association was likely accurate, as his track record was less than stellar.

"If Aurors were here for Malfoy, he wouldn't be sitting at the Slytherin table right now." Hermione pointed across the hall where he sat.

Draco must have sensed the three pairs of eyes on him, as he quickly looked up to meet Hermione's gaze with his own. Hermione felt herself flush, irrationally afraid that Malfoy had just given away their sordid affair with a single look.

He gave an arrogant sneer before looking back to Nott beside him. It was _nothing_ , she tells herself, _nothing_.

"So we agree on that, something's developed with Voldemort." Ron adds, rolling his eyes as he looks away from Malfoy.

Harry gave his eggs a soulful stab, "Why won't Dumbledore just _tell_ me then?"

 **Wednesday, September 18, 1996**

"If you lot are so interested in watching me eat, I'll start really making a show of it." Draco snaps.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Draco hadn't been able to clear the room this time, and hadn't exactly shared that until they met outside the Slytherin common room. Disillusioned and biting back the urge to tap her foot, Hermione had waited until Draco had arrived, following him as quietly she could up to his dorm.

The whole _sleuth_ thing had gotten a bit harder when she realized there were two other guys already there, something she had yet to deal with. Dealing with Draco was tough enough, and Hermione couldn't image sparring with Nott and whoever else was in the bloody room. She followed Draco onto his bed and waited for him to close his curtains and soundproof the tiny space, hoping she had successfully avoided detection.

"We weren't watching you eat, you insufferable prat."

Draco had neglected to silence the sounds coming from outside the emerald curtains of his bed, and Hermione could hear the turn of the page not far away.

"Your eyes all collectively glazed over while glancing at me, then?" Draco began removing his shoes where he sat across from Hermione, dropping them one at a time outside the curtain.

Hermione began removing her shoes as well, setting them beside her. She spent a moment debating whether to tell the truth, that they had been discussing the likelihood of his nefarious activities. "Ron thought you had food or something on your nose, none of us wanted to miss it." Hermione stuck her own nose up into the air _only slightly_ , partly because if she lifted it too high she wouldn't be able to see the buttons on her skirt.

"All that Gryffindor courage should give you the spine to at least speak the truth."

"What could we possibly gain from watching you eat, Malfoy?"

"I cannot be clear enough in how little I want to know about what gets Potty and the Weasel hard."

"I _wish_ you would just call them by their names in my presence." Hermione tugged a bit harder at the last skirt button than she really needed to. "You can rest easy in knowing that we were not watching you eat, much less getting off to it."

Draco's crisp white shirt was fully unbuttoned, hanging on by his shoulders. He heard a page turn from the direction of Theo's bed, and instinctually hesitated before speaking again. "Well _I_ wish they didn't get in my field of vision daily, but it seems we can't all get what we want."

"Give it a couple years, I doubt they'll join you in sitting alone at Malfoy Manor for the rest of their lives." Hermione's patience was running thin, and at this point she was ready to just stop talking and get to the sex already.

Malfoy gave a rather unappealing snort, "Is that what you imagine me doing after graduation? Sitting in silence at Malfoy Manor?"

"I'd prefer to not image you at all, honestly."

Draco shook his head in frustration, being careful to drop his shirt where it wouldn't fall beneath the curtain but still close enough that it billowed at the contact. "My potential is larger than whatever that is you've pictured, I'll have you know. Have I not proved myself formidable as an enemy? Have I not shown myself as a Slytherin, cunning and ambitious?"

"If you think I've given you enough thought to rank you as an enemy in my life, you'd be sorely mistaken, prat." Hermione's voice was clipped, her eyes warming with anger. Looking at Draco though, she had to bite her lip at the view of a fading bite mark on his shoulder.

Draco followed her line of sight, and couldn't help himself from looking at his own bitemark on her creamy thigh. Not far away were still visible fingerprint bruises, perfectly slotted for his own hands.

"Prat?" Draco smirked arrogantly, leaning back in the bed. "Come get on my lap and say that again, sweetheart." He pouted his lips at Hermione, patronizingly shaking his head at her.

Looking at his arrogant face both made her want to slap him and shove her mouth over his. She was still trying to work out which she liked more.

Hermione nearly ripped her bra off in anger, whipping it behind her where it slapped against the curtain. "Such a sodding wanker," she kneed over the velvety sheets to his lap nonetheless, planting her arse flat on his hips.

"Why do you swear only in my presence, Granger?" Draco sat both of his hands flat on her behind, smoothing his fingers over the soft skin. "Just can't stand how irresistible I am?" He made his voice raw now, dripping with honey. With them both nearly naked, he had to shift Hermione's anger in a more manageable direction.

The heat of ire was rolling off in waves, warming her skin where it laid heavy against the bane of her existence. She knot her hands where they sat on his strong shoulders, kneading into him. The usually comforting gesture angered Draco as it neared the point of pain, and in response he splayed his fingers over the fading bruises on her thighs.

The burning of his fingers digging into her legs made Hermione lift her hips, rubbing herself against him. "I can't believe I'm doing this again." She closed her eyes, shaking her head at the ceiling as she berated herself.

"I can," Draco whispered hot into her neck, ghosting with lips and teeth. "We both know I'm the only one who'll fuck you like this." Blunt teeth bit down onto her neck, drawing blood beneath her skin.

"I hate you," she whispered. The heat of his mouth and hands and hips on her was just, _fantastic_ , sending lightning all over her body. Hermione was just coherent enough to decide that of all uses of Malfoy's mouth, using it on her body was just her absolute favorite.

Draco was still thinking of something to say when the dorm room door began to slowly creak open. They both ignored the sound at first, but had to stop after a few seconds of the creak continuing. The amount of time was unnecessary for the simple opening of a door.

The heat of their moment was slightly fizzled, and they both pulled back slightly to examine the situation. Draco's was shirtless, his unzipped slacks loose at his hips. Hermione was straddled atop him, stripped down to her bra and knickers.

"Blaise?" Theo's voice hung in the room, uncertain.

Hermione and Draco were frozen in silence, both interested in what Blaise was doing. They both stared off into the dim space between Draco's curtains, Hermione at his bedspread and Draco at her breasts.

The creaking stopped, and Theo spoke again. "Blaise?"

Blaise closed the door rather than responding. Hermione heard shuffling from the same direction that earlier a page had turned, but making out actual actions was difficult. She could only assume that Blaise's entry was unusual, though she had little experience with however he normally acted.

After a moment Blaise's footsteps began walking further into the room.

Underneath her, Draco pushed himself up using his arms. His shifting moved his back to lean against the bed's headboard and Hermione's arse to slide a few inches down his thighs. Their torsos were more even now, no longer were Hermione's breasts at his eye level.

"What's going on?" Theo asked. She could hear his feet hitting the floor not far away where he must have come off his bed.

Still somewhat intertwined, the two listened to the scene unfold around them. Blaise sounded entirely detached from his surroundings, lost somewhere in his own head. He took small steps around the room, rummaging through parchment and other things Hermione couldn't identify.

Hermione could however hear make out Theo's words as he tried to interpret his friend. Theo struggled to deal with this situation, seemingly uncomfortable with handling the emotions of others. In imagining the interactions of Slytherins, Hermione just couldn't picture them ever maintaining meaningful emotional interaction. Showing weakness or emotion was almost the antithesis of being a Slytherin, as far as Hermione knew.

She also noticed Draco's eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he tried to interpret the situation himself. _Had something happened?_ It was nearly the middle of the night, and it was certainly possible something had happened in the castle. Somehow Hermione had thought that she would just _know_ if something was wrong, but that wasn't foolproof. Perhaps Blaise had seen Voldemort? Had someone died in the castle?

 _Were the Aurors visiting to warn of an attack on the castle?_

Hermione shook her head, disturbed at the mere thought. Although Harry and Ron had no idea where she was, she knew they would find her somehow if they needed to.

Watching Draco's reactions, Hermione could only assume that he was running the same internal dialogue. It wasn't long before he closed his eyes, visibly steeling himself.

"Stay here." His hands came to her hips, roughly sliding her back toward the bed's foot and off his legs. "Don't even _think_ of getting involved, much less getting seen." Draco zipped his slacks, not bothering to cover his chest.

Distanced from him, Hermione was now forced to see his Mark. Up until now she had been able to ignore even the thought of its presence, though Draco had put no effort into covering it up. But now, there it was in front of her. She couldn't help but think that for such a horrible symbol, it actually looked small on his arm.

Hermione almost didn't realize the other boys would be able to see it as well. They must already know he had taken the Mark, then. _Had they taken it as well? Was Voldemort's reach longer than she had anticipated?_ The reminder at seeing Draco's mark was painful enough, and thinking of how many others might be walking Hogwarts's halls with it was terrifying.

"Yes, because I'm dying to be caught in your bed in my knickers." Hermione threw a sarcastic hand in the air, scrunching her nose at the absolute _prat_ that sat across from her. As Draco reached to open the curtain, he shot Hermione one last rueful look to check that she was hidden enough for the moment. Heeding his warning, as she also had no interest in being found, Hermione had balled herself up in the corner, knees to her chest and wand in hand.

Once Draco had stepped out, he closed the curtain again, not allowing Hermione to follow or watch the interaction. Cold, and still slightly anxious of being found, Hermione crawled over to settle herself under the sheets. If anything else, when she was caught at least they wouldn't see her breasts.

"Theo, Blaise." Draco said, stepping closer to where they stood. Hermione could still hear Blaise's persistent rummaging, not having stopped at Draco's presence.

"Draco. Blaise is," Theo started, though he couldn't seem to find a fitting end to the thought either. Hermione shook her head, what the hell were these boys doing? Hermione had little experience with any Slytherin besides Draco, and even that was very limited in itself. She had no idea whether this was normal behavior for Blaise, to silently bang around his shared dorm room and ignore his friends.

Draco's confusion made the situation seem abnormal, but were they even friends? Hermione had gotten the impression that they were pretty close, but it's possible they only ever spoke to each other when it was absolutely required of them, and she had just happened to see them in those moments.

The sounds of rummaging continued to echo, and Hermione could barely make out sparse words whispered between Theo and Draco. Only after a few more moments did the rummaging stop and Hermione jumped at the sound of a trunk slamming shut.

"Hot date?" Draco's voice was the only sound in the room above the creak of footsteps toward the door, and they paused for just a moment when he spoke.

There was a scoff, and Hermione didn't like that she could tell it wasn't Draco's. "Yeah, with an ancient runes book."

Hermione shook her head against the pillow she was laid against, was there ancient runes work to be done she had forgotten? Bullocks, and she was wasting time laying half naked in the Slytherin dorms waiting for a horrible wizard to come back to bed and slam her senseless. What was the point of a devious rendezvous when there was work to be done?

Hermione tried to figure out what Runes work she could be forgetting while she laid there. She could have _sworn_ that there was only revision to be done for the last few classes, and she couldn't imagine Zabini would actually do that.

There was another scoff, and it might or _might not_ have been Draco's. "That's dragon dung. What's got your wand in a knot?" The dorm door opened, and Hermione could hear it shut forcefully only a few seconds later. From the continued low whispers that began again, she figured that Blaise had finally left the room.

Hair splayed around her head, Hermione was trying to decide whether these sheets actually were nicer than the Gryffindors', _they were and they shouldn't be, but they so were,_ when the onyx curtain opened again. Draco was returning, but she could see his mind was still walking from the Slytherin dungeons with his classmate.

He opened the curtain only what was necessary for him to come inside, slowly coming to sit in front of Hermione with his legs over hers. He didn't look at her for a moment, his face a stone mask. Hermione knew he must be trying to figure out what happened with Blaise, as she was doing the same.

"What was he looking for?" She asked, even though she didn't anticipate any real reply.

"He left with a pouch and some parchment." Draco's eyes were fixed somewhere on the curtains, and Hermione guessed he had forgotten who he was speaking to for a moment.

"A pouch of what?" Hermione watched his face as it crinkled, coming to look at her.

"Sadly, the bag was not invisible." Draco's mouth made a small snarky smile, obviously annoyed by her questioning. Hermione was unfazed, she hadn't expected as much information as she'd gotten.

So, what was in the pouch? Parchment was too wide a net, as it's uses weren't quite singular. The pouch though could be anything from chocolate frogs to pink lipsticks for all she knew.

"Is he usually like that?"

"Do you think me and Theo would have gone to speak with him if he was?" Draco snapped.

Hermione had a pit in her stomach over what she'd heard. From Draco's response, this was obviously out of character for Blaise. Is he doing something for Voldemort? Since he didn't seem to react to Draco's mark, he must be on their side.

An idea struck Hermione, and she looked to Draco's forearm, looking for some subtle change or movement. Was Voldemort summoning them, and Blaise was just answering his master's call? From her limited experience with the dark mark, Hermione couldn't tell any meaningful difference. Hermione had been under the assumption that he couldn't single out one person to call on, and Draco wasn't running out the door after him.

Draco craned his neck in every direction, stretching after staring into the curtain for so long. Hermione watched him, her mind still somewhat on Blaise and Voldemort, as Draco began to crawl over her. Pulling down the sheets from where they covered Hermione's breasts, Draco kissed her.

It was slow for only fleeting instant, until they both put their thoughts away. Hermione grasped the hair above his neck, pulling his face to hers. The _pressure_ and _heat_ of his chest on hers was something beyond explanation, she thought.


	2. Chapter Two

**Thursday, September 19, 1996**

Now that Hermione's birthday had arrived, she could say for sure that she wouldn't stop thinking any time soon. She fought the sluggish, heavy feeling in her limbs the whole way down to breakfast. Any excitement she'd held for turning seventeen was overshadowed by her current wish to just return to bed and catch some of the sleep that had been eluding her of late. Having raunchy late-night rendezvous with a sordid Slytherin meant she was up much later than normal, and that didn't include getting her coursework done.

However, her most recent late-night rendezvous had left another Slytherin on her mind as well.

Blaise had already been in the Great Hall when Hermione arrived this morning. Every few minutes, Hermione couldn't help herself from looking over to check his behavior. _What happened last night?_ She kept thinking, her mind running in circles to deduce some logical conclusion. Except, there wasn't one, which was, well, _disturbing_.

So far, all Blaise had done was skim the _Daily Prophet_ in silence, seemingly ignoring all of his classmates.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you!" Harry's voice rung out from behind her, and Hermione was pleased to see Harry's face alit when she turned around. His arms were stretched wide, and Hermione immediately stood to accept his hug.

She thanked Harry, giving his arm a gentle squeeze and passing on a grateful smile. Sometimes, he made her heart swell with how much she appreciated their relationship. The two sat back down to breakfast, Harry immediately reaching toward the basket of toast. Hermione's hands returned quickly to the steaming mug of coffee set in front of her; there was something undeniably comforting about the warmth against her palm.

"What's the plan today? Skipping classes, headed back to bed for a lie in?" A teasing smile rested easily on Harry's face.

Hermione rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, looking at Harry with light amusement even though the idea had already crossed her mind more than once. "My birthday has never before been and will never become an event worthy of skipping Ancient Runes." Hermione took a sip from her mug, then continued. "Nor Potions, can't say Snape's wrath is on my wish list this year." She scrunched her nose, shaking her head at the thought of explaining to Snape that she'd skived off class to lay in bed. His disapproving sneer was hard to look at even when it was just her imagination.

"I'd hate to meet the person who _does_ have that on their list." Harry faked a shiver of discomfort, sharing a laugh with Hermione at the thought.

Harry glanced long enough at his plate that Hermione felt safe to sneak another peek at Blaise. He was still staring at his _Prophet_ , and she couldn't be sure whether he had actually moved or not since she last looked.

"Just look at him up there," Harry gestured a hand toward Snape. "His face is like a stone, tough to believe he's celebrated a birthday in his life." He shook his head, "Can't picture that one in a birthday hat, for sure."

The two spoke for a while about other things they couldn't imagine Snape doing, Harry checking every once in a while that Snape wasn't able to overhear them. Hermione couldn't help but glance at Blaise when the chance was presented. Blaise couldn't actually be reading, she was sure, as he hadn't turned the page once.

The _Prophet_ was rarely that fascinating.

Ron had sat down in the meantime, bringing news of what _an absolute sodding prat_ Dean was being this morning. _How dare he_ and _the nerve of this guy_ slipping over the table as tired mantras. Having overheard Dean telling Seamus about some surprise date he'd planned for Ginny this weekend, Ron was wholly convinced the guy was up to something.

Had Hermione been in the mood for a row to really wake herself up, she might have pointed out that his theory was less than substantial.

Only half listening to Ron's ideas of what Dean could be up to, she watched as Theo sat down next to Blaise. Theo reached for to fill his own mug of coffee, and as best Hermione could tell, he was trying to cajole Blaise into conversation.

Hermione sipped from her own mug, giving Ron a supportive nod and a tight lipped smile when he glanced in her direction.

"Don't you think?" Ron questioned, pausing for only a moment to bring a forkful of eggs past his lips. Not wanting to truly be involved, Hermione only gave a positive hum to placate him.

Her eyes then returned to the Slytherin table, only to see that Blaise had finally stopped his skilled impersonation of a statue. Instead, he now was heatedly whispering with Theo, both looking much angrier than they had a minute ago.

 _In Merlin's name!_ She keeps missing the good parts. From the look on complete wrath shrouding Blaise's face, Theo must have murdered and revived him within the time she'd glanced away.

Blaise's paper was dropped onto his plate, forgotten; Theo's hand was tightly gripping a fork. Had she not known that such a public and messy scene wouldn't be his style, Hermione would have feared Theo was going to stab Blaise right then and there.

"What's going on over there?" Hermione interrupted the tail end of Ron's rant.

While she couldn't bring up Blaise's odd behavior in the Slytherin dorms (as she knew Harry and Ron would be more interested in supplying tough to answer questions in response than any valuable brainstorming), this was the perfect alternative to discuss it. When she'd gained the boys' attention, she gestured with a fork full of porridge toward the knot of tension a few tables over. Blaise's face was nearly murderous by now.

"Nott and Zabini?" Ron asked, trying to turn around without looking too obvious. "Aren't they friends?"

Harry stretched up, peeking past Ron's head. "How can you tell?"

"By Slytherin standards, I'd thought they were close." Hermione shrugged, hoping Ron and Harry weren't as obvious as she thought.

Theo leaned in slightly to Blaise, and Hermione almost thought she saw his lip curl in anger. "They're definitely fighting." Hermione added.

"What's all the whispering about?" Ron asked, "If one slept with another's girlfriend, we all know it'll be in the _Free Press_ tomorrow."

Harry kept an eye on the interaction, his brows furrowed. "Why are the other Slytherins ignoring them? If we started fighting right here, everyone in the Hall would crowd around and listen."

Hermione hadn't even _considered_ that. Immediately, she scanned the table and realized Harry was right. Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle. They're all so close to the boys, they have to know what's happening a couple seats away. Why were they ignoring Blaise and Theo?

From her knowledge of Slytherin power politics, Hermione knew this display of emotion was widely disrespected. She honestly expected Blaise and Theo's housemates to be making their scorn clear by now.

Hermione looked further, trying to see who else was purposely ignoring them. She only got so far before reaching Draco, who's eyes were fixated on the duel. As far as she could tell, he was the only one within definite hearing distance actually paying attention. He was, however, obviously trying to be surreptitious. Apparently every Slytherin had received memo to pretend they'd gone deaf.

Draco was keeping his head down, eyes in their direction, only rarely turning his head outwardly toward the scuff to get a good look. She could see he was trying to listen in, but was just far enough away to have a hard time. Every few seconds Draco would have to push his pale fringe from his eyes, something Hermione couldn't help but watch, for _purely_ curiosity's sake, of course.

"He's leaving?" Harry leaned back, confused. Hermione's eyes flew back. A few tables away, Blaise was standing, the _Prophet_ crumpled in his rigid fist.

Ron glanced back to catch the end of the show. "Is Theo going to follow him?"

Blaise exited the Great Hall alone, visibly fuming. At the Slytherin table, Theo was still angry as well. Glancing to where Blaise had just gone, Theo slammed his fist upon the table.

"Any guesses as to what made them fight like that?" Harry asked, looking between Ron and Hermione.

Hermione was still somewhat watching Draco, as he seemed to be asking himself the same question.

"I think Blaise did something." Ron suggested.

Hermione looked to him quickly, "Like what?"

"I don't bloody know. I heard that he and Crabbe were fighting at the Black Lake the other day." Ron shrugged.

"Fighting? Fists or wands?" Harry asked, interested.

"Words, I'd guess. I didn't really ask."

So, is _Crabbe_ the missing link here? Hermione could only image what Blaise was caught up in that would make Theo and Crabbe want to fight him. _But_ , Pansy and Goyle were explicitly ignoring him too. How had Blaise gotten himself ousted by his whole house?

"How'd you hear about that?" Hermione asked, half hoping for someone truly nosy like Lavender or Pavarti.

Ron shrugged, barely looking up from his plate. "Overheard some third years prattling on about it." Hermione bit her lip, less than excited about the immediate dead-end.

Harry shook his head, "Guy must really be on a tear lately, who knows."

"Must've lost the plot." Ron supplied between bites of eggs.

 **Thursday, September 19, 1996**

Hermione was rarely a lucky person. So when luck _did_ happen to fall into her lap, she took advantage.

She ran into Draco in a second floor corridor after dinner, alone with the evening as far as they could tell. While trying to avoid the Gryffindor common room to let Harry and Ron set up for their not-so-secret surprise party, she had happened upon the one person she both wanted and didn't want to speak with.

They both gave searching looks into the darkness before talking.

"Is it safe to be walking the corridors at night?" His voice was just the absolute _height_ of condescension, she felt her jaw tighten at the sound.

Hermione scoffed, "Shouldn't I be the one asking that question?" Had she not known better, she could have _sworn_ he flinched at the implication.

"You can sleep well knowing that nothing in these halls will keep _me_ up at night." Draco's snarky tone was nearly palpable.

"Am I not standing here in this hall?"

"Aren't we meeting tomorrow? I hadn't planned to try clearing my room tonight." He leered for a moment on her breasts, somehow projecting heat onto Hermione at only the implication.

She popped a hand on her hip, being careful not to cock her leg out too far. She also stuck her nose up, she'll admit, but _only a little._ "Tomorrow's the plan, eight-thirty." When Draco lifted a leg to start walking past her, Hermione spoke up again. "But I wanted to speak about something else."

"I wasn't aware we had overlapping interests," Draco looked down his upturned nose as well. It was only fair, of course, to take advantage of the height difference like that.

Hermione took a second to categorize her thoughts, and more specifically the questions she wanted to ask. Sheer luck had gotten information out of Draco the other day, catching him off guard, but this would take a bit more finesse. In effort to glean as much as possible, Hermione had to weasel her way up into the things he wouldn't want to answer. She didn't expect much, but the possibility was enough to spur the words from her mouth.

"I noticed a scuff at breakfast this morning."

"Is that so?" Draco's interest showed, even though they both knew on some level where this was headed.

Hermione nodded slowly, "Right out in the open, quite the sight."

"Did it offend your delicate sensibilities?"

"It didn't offend any of your housemates, I noticed."

Draco's nose was getting higher by the second, she was sure of it. "What other Slytherins do and do not take note of is less than an interest of mine, Granger." His voice bit at her name, spitting it out without. The familiar malice was absent, however. His meaning was clear, "I suggest you invest in a new hobby."

"And give up old faithful?" Hermione put her best effort in to imitate the biting snap of his tone, but in her own ears the words were childish. "Play coy if you choose, but I know house politics is your game of choice."

They watched each other a moment, trying to outlast one another in eye contact. Neither broke.

"Someone obviously stepped on Blaise's toes, making him stomping out like he did." She broke the silence when it was clear Draco had no plans to. Hermione was getting closer to going for broke, she could only stomach beating around this bush for so long.

Draco raised an eyebrow, "Did he? Can't say I noticed."

Hermione scoffed lowly, "That's a right lie, isn't it? Seemed like all you could _do_ was notice." She was getting closer to skipping the witty wordplay all together, but she had really hoped for him to give up more by now. Draco wasn't one to ignore bait when it was laid in front of him.

"I can't help but keep an eye on the comings and goings of my house, if that's what you're asking. I'll assure you everyone in this castle is guilty of doing the same."

"What were they fighting about?"

Draco seemed nearly amused by her flat out question, "Fighting? Why, I can't say I know what you mean."

Hermione scoffed, again. She raised her nose at him, which was a bit harder now as he stood to full height. "We both know what I'm talking about Draco, stop playing this game. What were Blaise and Theo so angry about at breakfast?"

His concern showed for only a hesitant second, "What would I gain from leaking even more Slytherin secrets to you? You weren't supposed to see whatever you already did. Any chipping bricks in the dungeons is the business of Slytherins only."

Hermione looked into his eyes, trying to read between the lines. "What chipping bricks? Is Blaise trying to revolt from his own house?"

"Listen to all these questions, Hermione. Yet so few answers. Did you anticipate that I was going to turn around and give up what information I do have?"

Ha! "What information you _do_ have? You're just in the dark as I am, aren't you? You've got no bloody idea what Blaise is on about!" She leaned in and poked his chest with an indignant finger. "That's why you're talking in these bloody circles, you don't have anything else to say."

Draco stepped forward quickly, taking all of Hermione's personal space as his own. "If you think I don't keep an ear and an eye on everyone in this castle worth the effort, you'd be wrong. Stay _away_ from this, Hermione."

With that said, Draco withdrew back into his stone-like stature, and began walking away. She turned to watch him go, trying to piece together what she could from their interaction. Trying to get information from a snake was excruciating, but Draco had quickly become her best source; eyes on the inside, even with his limited view.

After Draco had fully disappeared from sight, Hermione began the trek back to Gryffindor tower. Harry and Ron were likely done preparing whatever festivities they had planned, and she was looking forward to the time with her friends.

 **Friday, September 20, 1996**

"What rubbish! How could they even have these pictures! What is it to them, bloody invasive _twats_."

The _Hogwarts Free Press_ had arrived in the Great Hall promptly during breakfast the next morning. Tons of small Hogwarts owls had rushed in, each carrying an identical scroll. Hermione had adamantly chosen not to become an _HFP_ subscriber, feeling perfectly safe that the _Daily Prophet_ covered what actual highlights she needed.

That however didn't mean that others around her had made the same decision.

When another student a few seats down from her had spread their _HFP_ open to see the inner pages, she had caught a truly horrifying image. Her _own face_ was on the front cover.

A large picture of her birthday had made the front page; her and a handful of friends having a laugh in the Gryffindor common room, easy smiles adorning their faces. Harry and Ron had set up a couple of _Happy Birthday_ signs near the fireplace with just a handful of streamers to decorate. Sitting in the image beside her was the slice of chocolate cake they had pilfered from the kitchens.

 _Boring Birthday Girl Provides Little Surprise!_ The headline read, positioned directly above the cover shot.

Someone had come _into the common room_ and taken a bloody _picture_ of her birthday gathering. The _nerve_ of these insipid classmates to call themselves _journalists_! Hermione saw another headline in her mind, this one covering her losing her prefect title after hexing every author of _HFP_.

At her left, Ron was holding someone's copy of the paper, skimming the article underneath their faces. Upon noticing this, Hermione promptly ripped the paper from his hands, reading it herself.

They were comparing her birthday to Parkinson's!

Why would people want to _read_ this rubbish? Hermione looked around the Great Hall, and was shocked to find that most of her classmates had their noses buried deep in their own copy.

Her _"effortless"_ and " _simple"_ affair was discussed at length! Was there no decency, no _privacy?_ How could all these people be so interested in what she did to celebrate her birthday? For Godric's sake, what did it matter?

"How dare they invade our privacy like this! Taking our picture without our consent! And publishing it! The new Rita Skeeter walks these halls, mark my words." Hermione bit, looking around in outrage at her fellow Gryffindors.

"Who do you reckon took the picture?" Ron asked, trying to glace at the paper where it was balled in Hermione's fist.

"Creevey, most likely." Harry jumped in, having only glanced to the paper at Hermione's outburst.

Ron shook his head, taking a large bite of eggs. "I can't say I'm surprised, this seems to be exactly what they're made to print."

"They're made to print the intimate moments of my life, shared with close friends? This is a bloody gossip rag, I cannot believe Dumbledore is letting it continue."

Laughing at the mention of Dumbledore, Ron added, "I can, Dumbledore's always seemed asleep at the wheel for stuff like this. Don't you think?"

"Dumbledore is _not_ asleep at the wheel, Ron." Harry immediately retorted, brows furrowed. Hermione was less than surprised that he didn't find Ron's theory quite as funny.

She had begun scanning the Great Hall then, making a mental inventory of who was reading the front page article. "If he's allowing rubbish like this to cover the halls, he might as well be, Harry."

Harry shook his head, unswayed by their opinions. "I'm sure he's keeping an eye on it."

Her eyes watching the crowd, Hermione happened to realize that Blaise had yet to make an appearance that morning. Come to think of it, she couldn't remember whether he was at dinner last night or not. Had she seen him since the scuffle yesterday?

Well, she had definitely seen him in potions. He had been dead silent the whole lesson, she recalled, no longer whispering lewd jokes to whoever happened to be his partner that lesson. After that however, Hermione couldn't specifically remember seeing him at dinner.

Since the Slytherin Dorms incident, she had somewhat kept one eye on him out of pure curiosity. With her scanning the Slytherin table though, that meant her eyes were running across Draco as well. At the moment, he didn't have a _HFP_ in front of him. However his laugh as Pansy sat next to him, holding the paper in her hand, led Hermione to suspect he knew the cover story.

 **Tuesday, September 24, 1996**

Hermione could see Draco from where she was sitting.

Even with the Great Hall full to bursting for dinner, Hermione had developed an uncanny ability to pick him out of a crowd.

During their illicit rendezvous on Friday night, she had tried to bring up Blaise again. She, as expected, had been immediately shut down. Draco was adamantly refusing to discuss the issue, even though she could tell he had some of the same questions she did.

"When did you see him last?" She'd asked. His response had been a resounding _no comment_ , expressed by a _slightly_ too hard pinch at her nipple with his nimble fingers.

"Have you heard any Slytherins t-talking about him recently?" She had gasped out, Draco buried in her to the hilt.

He had given an extra hard thrust in response, which Hermione thought was less than a deterrent. "Are you done yet?" Draco groaned deep then, his voice rumbling out from deep in his chest and into hers, losing his train of thought for a moment. "I'm not telling you anything, Granger."

Hermione had pushed her hips up to his, grinding them together. It had taken her a few thrusts to remember that she was trying to wear him down. "Did you find out what," she gasped, pushing her head back in the tightening pleasure that always accompanied her time with Draco. "-what it was," she moaned again, "in the pouch?" When the sentence was finally finished, she was smiling both from being on the verge of an orgasm and being incredibly pleased she was able to still make a coherent thought.

"Granger," Draco had growled, snapping his hips as forcefully as he could. "Is he the one fucking you right now?" He had waited for a response, pausing his hips halfway in her when she didn't provide one.

Draco had reached up then, pinching Hermione's chin in his fingers. Her eyes were forced to hold his grey ones, and she could feel the sheer _power_ rippling off him in waves.

Hermione knew that as much as she wished it wasn't true, being this close to him was _electrifying_ in an indescribably amazing way. His presence was demanding, he took everything she had to give and more.

"No." The word finally slipped past her lips in a shallow breath. His pleasure at getting a response was nearly palpable, his eyes not leaving hers. "You are," she'd whispered again, high off of his aura.

"Then keep quiet about anyone who isn't," his lips had brushed against her own with the words.

Hermione was less than upset about the outcome, even if she hadn't satisfied her curiosity.

Harry and Ron passed notes on the year's Quidditch season for a while until Hermione was able to change the topic. She could only nod and smile with Luna for so long until she needed a real conversation.

Not long after everyone was gathered for dinner, however, the group's attention was called to Dumbledore's voice ringing at the professor's table.

"Good evening, students." Dumbledore announced, his somber voice silenced the room immediately. At the distinct lack of cheer coming from the Headmaster, Hermione couldn't help but steal a look at Harry. There was always the chance that he would be able to anticipate any forthcoming news, given his meetings with Dumbledore.

When Harry's face gave away nothing, Hermione's eyes returned to the aging Headmaster. He rambled on about a the school's current events, congratulating Slytherin on their close win at the last Quidditch game.

Soon though, he paused, and it looked as though he was trying to make eye contact with every student in the room.

"It is with heavy heart I bring news of another nature to your attention as well. After a thorough search of the castle and surrounding grounds, one of your classmates must be declared missing. Mr. Zabini, a sixth year Slytherin student, was last seen on Thursday during his routine courses. We will be fully investigating this situation, and encourage any students with knowledge of Mr. Zabini's whereabouts or last activities in the castle to come forward."

 _Blaise is missing._ Hermione immediately began thinking of his behavior last week, how did this change it? Was the pouch and parchment more meaningful now that he wasn't here to grab more? Did Theo take their morning dispute to another level? Should she come to Dumbledore with what she'd seen in the Slytherin dorms, or at breakfast?

"Due to how little is known of Mr. Zabini's situation, curfew is being drawn back to eight o'clock, effective immediately. Until we are able to rule out foul play, all students will as well be required to check in with a prefect or their head of house when returning to their common rooms for the evening."

Dumbledore's eyes continued to bore holes into every sixth year while he spoke of his hope to soon assure Zabini's safety. Hermione realized, when his eyes rested upon her for their compulsory moment, that he was scanning their reactions to the news, looking for outliers.

Realizing her chance to do the same, Hermione looked to Draco. Whatever is is that's been plaguing Slytherin house since term started just _had_ to be the root of this disappearance.

Or, dare she say, _murder_.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

I cannot express my appreciation enough to everyone who reviewed, favorited, set an alert, or read this story. I hope everyone enjoyed the new chapter, and I can't wait to hear your thoughts. - greyandpink


	3. Chapter Three

**Thursday, September 26, 1996**

This new early curfew was really limiting Hermione's investigation (if it even is one, that's still up for debate), not to mention the new nightly check-ins. As a prefect, she was now required to sit and take roll of _every_ Gryffindor every Monday night, a task she didn't look forward to starting. That was on top of her regular patrols as well, which were supposedly being increased soon.

Overall, this was taking away a lot of valuable time she could be using to mine information from the person who was currently her best source, Draco.

This itself, was also an issue. After Hermione discovered that Draco's knowledge on Blaise is nearly as limited as her own, she realized she would need to dig elsewhere if she ever wanted to learn anything.

 _Also.._ the new curfew meant she had to work a lot harder to see Draco at all, no matter the reason. She was _spoiled,_ she knew. But that doesn't mean she wasn't selfish enough to still want him. Let's be realistic here. Hermione had yet to experience anything better than his hands on her, taking her apart piece by piece, and the thought of ever giving it up was just _not okay_.

That doesn't include the real fact that a student had gone _missing_ at Hogwarts.

Hermione hadn't been suffering under the delusion that Hogwarts was safe, by any means, but this was a new level. She couldn't even blame it on some prejudiced chamber monster. Although, in second year she at least had something to blame for the disappearances, this time she had to work backwards entirely upon her own guesses. She could only hope her imagination was worse than reality.

So, all in all, Hermione wasn't pleased with the outcome of having her suspicions about Blaise vindicated.

She was sitting in the library at her long ago claimed table when the letter appeared in front of her. Without opening it, she recognized the sender immediately. The Ministry's system of interdepartmental memos was ingenious, and Hermione had gone out of her way to perfect the spell for her own personal use. In effort to limit the chances of them being caught speaking in the hallways about their scandalous affair, Hermione made sure to teach Draco at her first chance.

Her fingers darted out to snatch the small airplane, holding it tightly in cold hands. Hermione was conscious to not look around the library and draw attention to herself, even though she knew no one besides her and Draco had any idea in the world what the letter would contain.

 _Friday outside the Room of Requirement, 9:15_

Letters drawled across the parchment, written smoothly with a lazy hand. The scrawl was familiar, and it seemed ridiculous to see how similar it was to the way he spoke. Her mind summoned memories of his drawn out voice, smooth as honey. Each word passed by his lips slowly, but clearly defined from- no!

That was not at _all_ important, Hermione reminded herself.

What _was_ important however, was that curfew was at eight o'clock every night. 9:15 seemed late enough that prefects would be done checking people in, and would give her plenty of time to pretend she'd gone to bed before casting a disillusionment charm and sneaking out. However, she wasn't looking to tiptoe out of the common room to be caught toddling around the seventh floor just when Snape or someone was making rounds.

The thought of being found with Draco at the well known _Lovers Lane_ of Hogwarts was just mortifying.

Hermione picked up the pen again, and thought carefully on what to write in response. He definitely wasn't anticipating an answer, but that wasn't important. The heat tickling her cheeks reminded her that the last thing she wanted to do was say _no_ to a meeting, but in her mind she knew being caught out late with Draco would be impossible to explain to Harry. And for that matter, to Ron either.

That wasn't including the other students that might be milling about by the _Room_ at that time, given it's reputation. Her and Draco couldn't be the only ones in the castle looking for some time alone. Any randy fourth year couple could walk up to see them, and only Godric knew how quickly that piece of gossip would spread. She could only imagine the next headline of the _HFP._

 _Too many patrolling, and I'm not excited about detention._

The folded parchment sailed toward the library's exit, her neat handwriting placed directly below his own. Getting her eyes to focus on the work in front of her after that was difficult, as the Transfiguration notes she'd been previously revising were suddenly the most boring thing she'd ever read. It had been a while since her and Draco had been able to meet, and all she wanted to do was just release all of the tension she held.

When the parchment sailed back in front of her, she could have sworn an hour had passed already. A whole _hour_ wasted, she pestered herself. That however was stopped when her eyes flicked over to the clock hanging not far away on the library wall, which clearly showed that only eight and a half minutes had passed since she'd sent the note.

 _9:15_

Hermione felt one of her lips curl up just slightly in annoyance, and she just _knew_ the condescending look that was on his face when he'd wrote the response. Fingers twitching at her quill to carve out a few lines on the etiquette of writing and event planning, she debated whether Draco would even read the scolding. It was unlikely he would.

She didn't want to let it go, of course. Letting him get away with being so blasted _smug_ was going to drive her up a bloody wall, she was sure. But in this case, she knew Draco wanted to be caught as little as she did, and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Waving her wand, she quickly vanished the parchment.

 **Friday, September 27, 1996**

The _Hogwarts Free Press_ had yet to give up, and Hermione was somewhat surprised.

On the other hand though, when she glanced around the Great Hall at delivery time, she could tell they had quite the subscription base. Nearly every other face in the Hall was tucked into a copy, greedy hands prying the pages apart. A few copies even had a second face shoved in front, trying to catch a peak of their neighbour's newspaper.

Rubbish or not (and it _was_ rubbish, Hermione knew that needed no discussion), the authors had apparently figured out exactly how to quench the school's undying thirst for gossip. Now students can read about each other's affairs entirely at their own convenience! It was novel, really.

Hermione gave a bored glance at the _HFP_ copy in Ron's hand, freshly pilfered from some unlucky second year.

 _Disappearance of Prominent Slytherin Shocks School,_ read the bolded headline. Below was an image of Blaise, giving a cocky smirk and then dropping it into a cold mask over and over again.

"They're writing that like the whole school wasn't gathered here in the Great Hall for Dumbledore's announcement." Harry commented, giving his own glance to the paper in Dean's hand a few seats away.

"Maybe they've added a touching and insightful piece on the effect of all these attacks on the student mind," Hermione responded, barely holding in a laugh.

Harry snorted, "Likely."

"It's just repeating what's already been said," Ron added, laying the paper on the table. Hermione reached for it, _purely_ for curiosity's sake.

Harry passed a long look around the room, "Might as well have just printed his speech word for word, let people make their own comments."

Hermione had the paper clenched in one hand as it half-laid over her plate. "I'll never argue against journalistic commentary; if people have something worthy of saying it should be said." She picked up the paper fully then, looking flat at Blaise's cover shot. "But I will say, this is a welcome change from their _previous_ reports." Her voice was terse, and the boys knew she was referencing her own front page appearance the week before.

"Missing classmate is a welcome change?" Harry's voice lilted, teasing her.

"As long as it's a Slytherin, yeah." Ron laughed, a half chewed piece of toast in his open mouth.

Hermione gave Harry a scolding look, softened by the light smile she was showing. "You know what I mean, Harry. You also know just as well as I do, it's never fun to see your name in print."

"Bullocks, I bet it'd be a great time to see your face holding the quidditch cup on the front page, or shaking the minister's hand." Ron laughed.

Hermione had returned to scanning the _Free Press_ , but she vaguely heard Harry's response. She didn't want to admit it to herself, but she'd had hoped the _HFP_ would have some worthy gossip on Blaise's disappearance.

Any hope that was there though, was squashed by the words printed before her. There was one line of the breakfast incident, which didn't even mention Theo's name. Other than that, nothing! Hermione believed in the right to journalistic integrity, but this was just total rubbish! If she couldn't count on gossip from the new rag of Hogwarts, what could anyone count on?

 _Overall, Blaise's disappearance seemed to come out of nowhere._ Hermione read the line twice, then a third time. As disappointing as that was, Hermione received a salacious surprise in the next paragraph.

 _A close friend of Blaise's in Slytherin House, Pansy Parkinson, made time to speak with the Hogwarts Free Press about the issue. The loss_ _of Blaise is "shocking" and "scary," Pansy recalled. "No one noticed anything weird about him before. I can only hope Hogwarts is still safe for us other students."_

Well that was, _odd,_ Hermione thought. Pansy lied in her quote, that was no question. But why? Everyone at breakfast last week noticed the scuffle, even if they hadn't been on guard from his break down the night before. Moreover, Hermione had _watched_ Pansy pretend nothing was happening that morning.

Hermione smelled a cover up.

* * *

 **Friday, September 27, 1996**

Draco's touch was _everywhere._ His fingers were like fire on her body, his chest like the ocean holding her down, his mouth was _sin_ wherever it could reach. The sound of his groan was just _erotic,_ the vibration melting into her body.

Hermione's brain was barely able to function, repeating the mantra of his name on a loop. Without even speaking, he had taken over her mind too, _greedy_.

Words were lost on them, and it seemed that's exactly what Draco wanted. The witty repartee that usually accompanied a meeting like this would only slow them down right now.

He'd already been standing outside the _Room_ when she'd arrived, and wasted little time in pulling her inside. Nonchalantly using the door, Draco's ease of manipulating the passage gave Hermione the idea that he'd visited here often.

Making a taunting comment had crossed her mind, to bring attention to her being one of the many he brought here, but she decided against it. Hermione feared that he would read this as jealousy, which she suspected would bring their meetings to an immediate and resolute end. The agreement to keep an emotional distance while so physically close was a silent one, but binding nonetheless.

"Have you learned anything about Blaise yet?" She'd asked, when they were alone with a disappearing door. Draco's response had been immediate, coming in the form of hands and teeth and tongue on her skin. Conversation was wholly unwelcome in that moment, and still was ten minutes later.

That response had brought them to where they were now, tied together in a knot of their own limbs.

Perfectly pearly teeth bit into her shoulder, responding to the hand giving him special attention underneath his unclasped belt. She let out a moan, the closest she could get in that moment to a coherent protest at the pain. The movement of his lips against the spot was sensual it it's own way, as Draco usually wasn't one to solve his injustices.

"Draco," Hermione moaned again, pulling her hand from his cock to cover his own where it worked her over. Draco was just so bloody _good_ at that, knowing just what to touch and how to drive her up a wall in the moment.

His technique was rarely perfect, and Hermione had no qualms in telling him so, but he'd definitely improved on using his hands.

Pink lips sought out Draco's, locking them together. He might have been using too much tongue, _fine._ Hermione made a note for later in case he decided to be his usual prattish self, but allowed that to slide for the moment considering his attention was elsewhere.

His blond fray spilled over onto her face, further mussing his perfectly coiffed hair. When Hermione opened her eyes for just a moment she could see it framing their faces. It was such a contrast to her own dark locks that it was almost startling to see so close.

"Are you looking at my bloody _hair_?" Fingers stilling, Draco gave her a look of reproach. "There's nothing else of my being you find more attractive?"

The scoff that came from Hermione was less than gorgeous, but she felt it matched his attitude just the same. "I was looking at it for just a second, not that it should matter! Did you not have something to be doing right now?"

"Nothing I can recall, no. Any requests?" One brow of his raised, something that made Hermione both incredibly jealous, as she'd never been able to do that, and incredibly incensed. The nerve! "That being, besides cutting off a lock of my hair for some twisted version of safekeeping."

"You sodding knob, can you not just finish what you started?" Hermione grabbed his now motionless hand and brought it back between her legs.

Draco very slowly moved his hand in response, making miniscule movements towards continuing. At the same time he watched her, and Hermione could tell he wanted her to snap in response. Fifteen minutes and halfway though, suddenly he was in the mood for a row.

Not in the mood for speaking herself, Hermione made a calculated next move. With her same hand that had guided his own, Hermione got a firm grip on his cock.

"Well if you'd rather…" A grin smug enough to give Hermione dreams of smacking it off graced his face then. He must have been anticipating she'd continue where she'd left off a few minutes ago.

Instead, her hand shoved his from where she'd left it, and lined him up. Draco immediately recognized her goal, and jolted his hips forward, his grin now shifting closer to a smirk. "Well if only you'd told me that's what you wanted."

Hermione slammed her lips back into his, brutal and searing. "Get back to work, Draco." Her voice rumbled against his lips, and they grew more aggressive at the words.

Hips snapped against her, unwavering and constant. The rhythm of their mouths against one another matched, in synch. He'd even calmed down on the tongue a bit.

Searing and sinful, Hermione felt. Having him over her was a release like no other. She was breaking every rule she could think of, and yet it was the most amazing feeling. The force of him inside her, over her, touching her, she could never have imagined. He was smoke, inhabiting her whole being.

Draco however, hadn't touched her clit again.

She _did not care,_ Hermione repeated. However, she knew that her being able to think that meant that she _should_ care. The fact that thoughts were present was enough to prove that neither were doing their job well enough. Draco had proven his ability before to make every thought in her mind vanish before, and his hands were half of the equation.

"Draco," Hermione moaned, pulling her lips from his, " _hands._ "

He made no immediate move to do as told. A righteous injustice, Hermione felt.

Draco however, hated to be outplayed. This weird meeting of enemies worked partly because he loved knowing he could take her apart, wholly with his own ability. Hermione had realized that half the fun for him was watching her lose herself in his touch. She figured this was quite the ego boost for him as well. Hermione didn't want to admit that though, as the last thing he needed was a bigger ego.

That was why a moment or so later, Hermione brought her hand down to try replicating his technique. It was better than nothing, yet still pale in comparison. Her own touch wasn't nearly a close match to him, but she wasn't concerned. His growl came right on time, expressing his anger at being sidelined. Within seconds he took over, removing her hand.

They both finished not long after that, laying to rest on the plush bed the _Room_ had provided. Draco and Hermione laid in silence for a while, coming down from their long awaited peak. In effort to get comfortable, they had landed still somewhat tangled. One of her legs was slung between his, one of his hands resting on her warm thigh.

After a minute of so of deliberation, Hermione decided this was her chance, both of them sated for the time being.

"What do you know about Crabbe and Zabini's relationship?" Her voice was confident, though she kept hoping he wouldn't deflect again.

When he didn't answer, Hermione turned her head to glance at him. Brows furrowed, he seemed to be truly considering the question. "What of it?" His response was guarded, but this was a good sign. Hermione could tell he was open to questioning, at least for the moment.

"I heard they got into a scuff by the Black Lake a few weeks ago." Hermione tried to sound casual, but they both knew it was a ruse. She wanted every piece of information he had relating to Blaise, it was like tug of war with words.

"They've been tense for months, I'm sure that wasn't their first row." Draco's voice was thoughtful, placing his words carefully in the air.

"What about?"

He paused for only a few seconds, considering how to respond. "How did you know they'd had a row?" His question pulled on Hermione's confidence. Anticipating his responses was harder than she'd thought, they always seemed one step forward and two back when she tried asking about Blaise.

"Gryffindor gossip." Hermione added lightly, downplaying how helpful it was for Ron to overhear some underclassman. "Who all was Blaise fighting with? This list keeps getting longer."

"I know Crabbe, Goyle, and Theo for sure." He paused less before this answer, seemingly thinking more on the situation than the fact that he wanted her to leave it alone.

"Pansy?" Hermione asked, trying to keep her voice steady. She wasn't ready to bring up her whole thoughts on the girl just yet, as she had no guess as to Draco's response.

Draco snorted, shaking his head back against the pillow. "Her relationship with Theo made it a bit complicated."

"Relationship with Theo?" Hermione sat up on one arm, turning to look fully at Draco underneath furrowed brows. "They're dating?" Voice pitched, she turned the idea over in her mind.

"More like en route to marriage." Draco answered immediately.

Looking into Draco's eyes, she tried to decide what to ask next. This brought up _so_ many more questions. "I didn't even realize they were close." How did she not know this?

"How often are you studying the politics and movements of Slytherins, Granger?" He gave another laugh, and she felt incredibly far from him. They seemed to be having two entirely different conversations in that moment.

"Have they been dating long, or are they en route to marriage the way every teen couple is?" Hermione tried to merge their lines of thought, hoping to break past the façade that seemed to shroud everything he said. It was like having an interaction through a cloud of _Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder_.

Draco have a chuckle, "They're definitely en route, been together three years or so."

Hermione's interest was piqued. Suddenly Pansy minimizing the breakfast row made some sort of sense. She _must_ be covering for Theo, trying to pull him from the spotlight. It doesn't look great for an enemy to go mysteriously missing after a public blowup.

" _Three years_? Didn't you date Pansy not long ago?" Hermione let the words escape before she realized how he would twist them. Previous _relationships_ was a taboo conversation, no matter the context.

"Getting jealous now, are we?" His voice was as smug as the smirk on his lips. "Does that not seem foolish, given the circumstance?"

Hermione puffed in annoyance, "It speaks to the credibility of your information, Draco."

"My credibility, is it?" Draco's brows shot up, looking at her tauntingly. He turned his body to fold an arm under his head, "Care to remind me why I'm sharing any of this at all?"

"Because your friend is missing, Draco." Hermione kept her voice even, trying to pin him down with her gaze. "Someone you bunked with for years and were supposedly a dear confidant to."

Draco gave a hearty laugh. "If you truly believe anyone in Slytherin keeps one another as a confidant, you entirely underestimate wizarding and Slytherin politics. Close with Blaise or not, we did less than sit in the night and share secrets."

"Did you or did you not date Pansy when you say she was dating Theo?" Hermione returned to the goal, knowing that Draco might be unwilling to speak on this again. Her interest in the social constraints of Slytherins was fascinating, and at some point she wanted to know more, but that was more likely to be discussed later.

He stared Hermione down, giving a rueful smile. "Why don't you ask Pansy yourself?"

Draco seemed to think that was quite the joke. He let out another hearty laugh, a usually rare sound in her ears.

 _So,_ after purposely ignoring whatever was going on with Blaise, Pansy was now running damage control for Theo. Hermione knew the next step; she needed to speak with Pansy.


	4. Chapter Four

**Wednesday, October 2, 1996**

Finding the perfect time to question Pansy was a tougher job than anticipated. While Hermione could get Draco alone in a corridor with just a pinch of luck and a dash of effort, Pansy was a different story.

She seemed to never be alone; in the corridors, in the bathroom, by the Black Lake. Hermione was beginning to wonder how much manipulation this would take. Over and over, Pansy was _just_ out of reach.

That was why Hermione decided she would look elsewhere for now. After _four_ days of following Pansy, Hermione just _could not_ take it anymore. Six steps behind and always with something in her hand to serve as an excuse, Hermione had effectively lived as Pansy's shadow whenever she could. All Pansy all the time; it was bloody exhausting. So instead, she decided to start by speaking with someone else, eventually getting to Pansy.

The list of people that Hermione had questions for seemed to be ever growing; Theo, Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, Draco, and even Blaise himself if that was still possible. Inconvenient as it was, Hermione was realizing that she couldn't quite force an interview with the other Slytherins like she could Draco.

Luck was on her side though, not long after taking a break from Pansy. Hermione had just left dinner early, when opportunity struck. Headed to Gryffindor Tower to grab her History of Magic notes, which she had already reprimanded herself for forgetting this morning, a finicky staircase meant she had to take the a long route through the seventh floor.

It was _fine,_ really. Hermione reminded herself that she loved everything about Hogwarts, which just so happened to include the staircases.

The issue was forgotten though, as well as her notes for the second time, when she noticed Crabbe not ten meters ahead of her. He'd been walking right down the same route as her, and was only made aware of Hermione's presence when he turned to pace in the opposite direction. The boy made a very loud cough the second he saw her, enough that Hermione considered he might be choking.

When the coughing abruptly stopped, and Hermione was assured she wasn't about to watch him drop to the floor, she approached.

"Crabbe," Hermione tried to keep her voice from falling flat between them. She would need to keep him from dodging her if she wanted him to answer any questions, and sounding like she was up to fight wouldn't help matters at all.

His eyes bulged for a second. Visibly caught off guard, he stopped pacing immediately to shift back and forth on heavy feet.

Crabbe swallowed before responding, "Granger." His voice was cold, and he seemingly did nothing to hide his confusion. Hermione noticed his hands balling into fists, and she guessed he was anticipating a fight.

"Do you have a second?" She tried to remove any aggression from her voice, a feat in itself, and keep from scaring him off. Hopefully she could walk up to the Tower without pulling her wand.

 _Be casual,_ she kept reminding herself.

His face expressing tight confusion, Crabbe only nodded. The arms locked tight in front of his chest made it clear to Hermione how tough this would be. If she could get him to speak at all about Blaise, it would be a victory.

"What do you know about Blaise?"

Crabbe's first response was thoughtless and immediate. "That he's missing? That he goes to school here?"

Hermione pursed her lips a moment before asking again, as she wanted to refrain from spooking him with too direct questions. "Do you know anything about his disappearance?"

Another ungodly cough raged from Crabbe's mouth, seemingly with no warning.

"I know what everyone knows, that he was acting weird and then just stopped showing up for classes." He gave an unconvincing shrug.

"Acting weird? How?" Hermione had an answer of her own, but she hoped someone living with him would have another perspective. Draco was only willing to give so much detail, and was apparently paying less attention to the Slytherins than he said.

Crabbe scrunched his nose for just a second before speaking. "Running around on an absolute bloody tear, raging against the whole house." Shaking his head, he looked off behind Hermione and refused to meet her eyes.

"I heard he and Theo got in a pretty big fight, at breakfast?" Keeping her voice lofty and detached, Hermione tried as much as she could to express that this was all coming from some idle curiosity within her. It was a good thing she was getting to practice this on Crabbe though. She couldn't fathom that someone paying attention to the situation wouldn't notice how odd it was. In Crabbe's shoes, she might even turn the tables and start asking why he was so interested, enough to resort to speaking with her.

"Blaise was being _stupid,_ and he knew it. Theo wanted to help him." Crabbe's eyes shifted around the corridor, and he seemed to think twice on what he'd revealed.

 _This_ was a revelation. What was the fight actually about? What was Blaise doing to raise so many eyebrows?

Hermione was pushing her luck, but she tried for more. "I heard they got in quite a few fights all over the castle."

"Yeah." The arms tightly wound across his chest made it clear how little she'd be getting from him now. Crabbe seemed to have realized how odd the situation was. Just as likely, he realized how much trouble he'd be in if another Slytherin saw them speaking cordially.

"I heard he got in a fight with you too, down at the lake?" Hermione was careful to keep the blame on Blaise, hoping this would keep Crabbe's lips loose just a little longer.

Crabbe turned around, scanning again for eavesdroppers. "Did you need something? I was headed somewhere."

That was a flat out _lie,_ Hermione knew. When she walked up he'd been clearly pacing the corridor.

Hermione had no response, still thinking of what he'd shared. Crabbe let out one final and horrifically loud cough before walking past Hermione. She swiveled her head to watch as Crabbe turned the corner, waiting for his footsteps to disappear. For just a moment, Hermione could have _sworn_ she'd heard a noise as though something fell, or maybe it the wall. After a minute passed though without any accompanying noise, she brushed it off as the common noises of students in a castle hundreds of years old.

 **Thursday, October 3, 1996**

 _You're making a habit of interrogating Slytherins, now?_

Hermione was just about to leave for dinner when the note flew in front of her. She glanced around the library, hoping no one had taken notice of the parchment airplane. The library's stale air reminded her that she was just being paranoid. Not only she nearly alone, but anyone would assume the message was form Ron or Harry.

Draco had reached out later than she anticipated. After speaking with Crabbe, Hermione half expected him to be berating her before the night ended. Considering how casual the note seemed, he must be saving his thoughts for whenever they'd be meeting next.

 _Interrogating is such a harsh word._

Sending the note off, Hermione looked back down the tome sitting in front of her. She'd been doing some research on Horcruxes in the free time she had, but now she was locked in the library for a little while longer. Going down to the Great Hall just to receive Draco's note right in front of the boys would be more work than it was worth.

When the note returned, Hermione still hadn't found anything of use on Horcruxes. Scrawled below the other writings was the smooth flow of Draco's handwriting.

 _Harsh words can be necessary when the situation merits it._

Stomach growling, Hermione studied the words. Logical as she was, she just couldn't understand what Draco's goal was here. The first line clearly expressed his displeasure with her speaking to Crabbe, but this next line was almost conversational.

 _Friday night, the Room? 9:30_

Hermione sent the note, pretending that as it smoothly sailed out of the library, it took her thoughts on the matter with it. She imagined dials in her brain, tuning her thoughts to her research alone.

When seven whole minutes had passed without the plane being seen again, Hermione stopped expecting a response. It was a bit uncommon for him to stop responding when asked a direct question, but his thoughts on the matter were somewhat undetermined for the time being. Her fingers had just detached from the book she was putting away when the plane appeared again.

Brows furrowed, Hermione studied the folded parchment for a moment as it hovered in the air. Lucky that she'd yet to leave for the Great Hall.

 _Saturday, 10:00_

Hermione quickly penned her acquiescence, her mind thinking of how amazing a pumpkin pasty would taste at just that moment.

Arriving at the Great Hall, she realized that nearly everyone was already present. On the walk to where Ron and Harry were seated, Draco's presence caught her eye. Considering the plate in front of him that looked nearly half finished, he must have been here in the Hall when he wrote to her. Hermione tried to decide what she thought of that, as she couldn't even imagine doing so herself.

Then again, it seemed that no one at the Slytherin table would dream asking him any questions regarding the notes.

Ron and Harry were discussing Harry's last meeting with Dumbledore already when she arrived.

"Library?" Ron asked, tilting his head up to see her. The grin lazily splitting his face suggested his comfort at seeing her, and in a way made Hermione wish she'd walked up Harry's side of the table.

Nodding, she sat down and immediately reached for a pumpkin pasty. "What did Dumbledore want to discuss last night?"

Harry launched immediately into Dumbledore's repeated request for Slughorn's memory. Hermione tried to keep herself from pursing her lips too hard, tired of explaining to Harry the importance of getting that memory.

 **Friday, October 4, 1996**

Hermione had a mountain of questions. Worst of all, it just seemed to keep growing.

In reviewing what she'd learned from Crabbe, Hermione couldn't help but getting more and more curious. _Blaise was being stupid,_ Crabbe had said. What was he doing though? The anger in Crabbe's voice, and Blaise's apparent _tear against the house,_ suggested that this was more important than his Potions grade.

The glaringly obvious answer in her mind was Voldemort. Blaise could have been doing something stupid; maybe he took the mark? Maybe he refused to? Whatever the answer was, it seemed just outside her reach.

Being against the entirety of Slytherin must have been quite a feat, Hermione was having a hard time imagining the perfect solution. He must have done something truly egregious for the most stoic and reserved house to argue in public with one of its own so often.

This morning though, Hermione was nearly shocked. Littered around the Great Hall, and laid upon the table in front of her, the _Hogwarts Free Press_ actually showed a cover story that Hermione deemed newsworthy.

"What do you think was going on?" Harry asked, studying the paper. Hermione wished in that moment that she knew the answer.

 _Slytherin Tensions Revealed!_

The cover's photo was obviously taken in the library, tucked away somewhere not visible from the main study commons. Had she not spent so much time there in the last six years, Hermione wouldn't have been able to tell for sure. Fists clenched, Theo was leaning into Blaise menacingly. Their snarling expressions were familiar, nearly exactly the same as she'd seen just over a week ago in this very hall.

 _It's been ten days since one of Hogwarts' own was declared missing, Blaise Zabini. Little is known currently on where Zabini may be, or the circumstances surrounding his disappearance. Here at the Hogwarts Free Press, our journalists have been hard at work to piece together Zabini's last days at Hogwarts. According to_ HFP' _s photo source, Zabini was caught in a tense argument with fellow sixth year Slytherin Theo Nott in the library not long before Dumbledore's fated announcement._

Hermione felt their use of the word _journalist_ was a little generous, but appreciated the attempt either way.

"They're clearly fighting again, but I have no idea why." Hermione answered truthfully, studying the picture as well. "Any ideas?"

"One broke the other's solid gold broom?" Ron joked, adding on a laugh.

Harry laughed too, and the pair began exchanging jokes on the Slytherins' behalves.

Hermione knew there were three things that made people fight; money, power, and love. While she still planned to ask Pansy about it at some point, Hermione figured she could take love off the list. Pansy's coverup efforts wouldn't make sense if Theo was playing the spurned boyfriend taking out his cheating girlfriend's lover. Although, did Blaise have a girlfriend? Remembering her surprise at Theo and Pansy's coupling, Hermione knew she couldn't be totally sure.

Even then, Hermione could still poke holes in the idea though. Who could he be dating that would anger the whole house, that would make him argue with both Theo and Crabbe? Hopefully these Slytherins started speaking soon, because all Hermione knew for sure, was that she knew nothing at all.

Hermione listened absently to the boys' teasing comments, still thinking though on the image laid in front of her. Eventually, the thought struck her. "Who do you think took this picture?"

"Creevey," Harry answered immediately, as though he knew the answer before the question even left her mouth. While Hermione could sympathize with Harry's annoyance, she couldn't have been more happy with his answer. Colin Creevey would be more than happy to have a casual chat with her.

 **Friday, October 4, 1996**

As much as Hermione disliked the implications, she quickly realized how much easier it was to get Gryffindors alone. It was afternoon when she saw Colin, passing him as the both headed toward their respective classes.

Calling his name, she pulled them both aside in the corridor to allow the milling students to pass along. Colin had somewhat lost the preening, shaking excitement that plagued him in his first years at Hogwarts. Being a muggleborn as well, Hermione had been able to sympathize with his joy of exploring the wizarding world, but she liked this calmer version of him much more.

"Hermione!" Colin's smile was wide and jovial, beaming at the chance to interact with her.

Exchanging the normal pleasantries, Hermione tried for organize her thoughts on what to ask.

"I saw your photo in the _Hogwarts Free Press_ this morning, that's pretty cool." Hermione nodded. "Is that your first time being printed?"

"I'm really excited! My first time being published; I'm saving the paper forever!" He quickly launched into plans for his treasured memory.

Hermione waited as long as she could, she _really_ did, but she had another class starting soon and so many questions get out. "I'm so interested in your first published photo, how did it end up getting printed?"

Creevey absolutely preened at Hermione's question. "Pavarti heard me in the Great Hall telling my friend that I had a photo of Blaise. She really wanted to see it, asked me for a copy earlier this week!"

It hadn't crossed Hermione's mind that there were individual students working together to publish the _HFP_. She figured though that had she given it a thought, she could have anticipated that Pavarti was an integral part of it.

"When did you take that picture? I noticed they never mentioned that in the article." _Casual,_ Hermione reminded herself. Fellow Gryffindor or not, she didn't need anyone asking her too many questions in response, complicating the whole issue.

Also, she didn't need word spreading to Ron and Harry that she was publicly looking into Blaise.

"It was a while before, maybe a little over a week before he went missing. I think I wrote down the actual date somewhere."

 _Writing things down!_ Hermione couldn't believe it hadn't crossed her mind before. If she didn't want to forget anything she'd learned, she needed to start documenting what people said. Making a mental note for later, Hermione tried not to think of how many mental notes she might have lost already.

"That's such good timing, just coming across them in the library like that. Did you happen to hear what they were arguing about?" Hermione leaned into Colin just the slightest bit, eager for him to share something worthwhile.

"I was there looking for a book for my Potions essay, and I could hear them whispering from the two aisles down." His calm smile was still shining, happy to have caught Hermione's interest and attention.

"Could you tell what about? That must have been pretty loud," Hermione coaxed.

"Oh well, not much of it." Colin shook his head, furrowing his brows in thought. "I remember Blaise saying something like – he was telling Theo _I can make my own decisions,_ and _leave us alone_." When quoting the other boy, Colin put on an a small, angry voice, pinching in his face to express the alleged malice.

"Did you hear anything Theo said?"

"Nope. Blaise was a lot louder than Theo, they were both _really_ angry." Colin laughed again, reminding Hermione to preserve her façade of distant interest.

She nodded slowly, trying to determine what else she should ask. "Lucky of you to happen upon them like that, ending up getting published because of it."

Colin started speaking again on his excitement to see his work in the _HFP_ this morning, and Hermione didn't feel that bad about not listening. She needed to be two floors up in five minutes for her next class, and being late was simply _not_ an option.

Sensing a break in his speech upcoming, Hermione jumped in when he stopped to take a breath. "Do you have any other pictures of Blaise or Theo?"

"Not like that, sadly. I've mostly just got pictures of them in regular school stuff, playing quidditch and whatnot." Colin shrugged a shoulder, passing his smile onto another fifth year walking by them.

Hermione couldn't help but be disappointed, but figured it wouldn't hurt to take a look at the photos just in case. Her hopes had been fixed on some secret duel, or maybe a clandestine meeting unearthed.

"Mind if I take a look at them sometime? There might be something else in there worth publishing."

Colin agreed he would get the photos to Hermione soon, practically bouncing on his feet as he walked into the dungeons.

 **Saturday, October 5, 1996**

Draco's lips were pursed tight, pinching his face even further forward. Hermione found it less than attractive.

Trapped in the darkness, they sat across from one another atop the bed sheets. Around them was an exact replica of Draco's bed, down to the closed, dark curtains. Hermione's legs laid in tailor-fashion, letting the woolen skirt fan out around her.

They sat in silence, even the constant sound of wind whipping against the castle was hushed in the _Room'_ s attempt to mimic the dungeons. Had there been any less sexual tension in the air, an outsider might have guessed they were in an aggressive staring contest.

Hermione couldn't say for sure how long they'd been in silence, because she didn't start counting until some time had already passed. Between the time they'd come to this replica of his dorms and when Draco first spoke, she guessed about six minutes had passed. Long enough to notice, one could say.

"Are you pleased?" His voice was smooth and dark, infinitely attractive but ultimately infuriating.

Fingers tapping a steady rhythm on her bent knee, Hermione gave thought to her answer. In trying to anticipate how he would respond, she knew that no answer would possibly diffuse him. There was no asking for clarification, they both knew what he was angry about.

"I appreciated what I learned." The words barely escaped her tight lips, mimicking Draco's pensively aggressive expression.

He scoffed, condescending and irritated. "What you _learned?_ Just what would that be?"

Hermione wished she'd thought twice of spilling all she'd been told to Draco, instead of blindly passing it all on. Draco had yet to do anything to ruin her life since they started sleeping together, when she'd _really_ given him something to torture her with, but it wasn't necessary for her to so blindly trust him. It was almost unsettling, now that she noticed it.

"That he wasn't fighting with just Theo, apparently the whole House was in on it. Crabbe said Blaise was being ' _stupid_.' Theo was trying to supposedly ' _help him_ ,' and Crabbe was too. I brought up his own fight with Blaise, and he wouldn't answer. Somehow figured out that it wouldn't look good to have fought with a missing man." Words tumbling from her mouth, Hermione repeated the short interaction with Crabbe. Had he said anything else? The need to document these _questionings,_ as interrogations was still too strong of a word, came to mind again.

Draco held his tongue for a moment, seemingly turning over what she'd said in his mind.

"His own fight with- _doesn't look good?_ " Eyes locked dead on Hermione, he furrowed his brows in thought, voice rising. "You think Theo killed Blaise, don't you? That's why you're looking into Blaise, that's why you're so concerned with who he fought with and why."

Hermione wasn't really sure if Theo killed Blaise or not, but the suspicion was there.

"So what if I do? So what if I think Snape snapped him and half and buried him in the Black Lake, if I think he went off to mop the floors in Muggle London, what does it matter? You've bunked beside him for years, are you not the least bit interested in what happened?" Hermione knew for a _fact_ that Draco didn't know what happened. From his interactions in the last couple weeks, she knew he had no idea what had been going on just under his nose, what had everyone at each other's throats for so long.

"I'm not interested in a persecution of every Slytherin who rubs you the wrong way." The innuendo was not lost on Hermione, and she easily understood his reference to their odd relationship.

"You think you're excluded from my suspicion?" Her nose was high, yes, but it was justifiable. Draco needed to know that just because she let him give her mind blowing orgasms on a regular basis doesn't mean she'd let him get away with anything.

Draco's voice was laced with contempt, getting louder with his rising anger. "Your _suspicion?_ The tone in your voice seems like you think that's more than it is; your suspicion is only as good as the evidence behind it."

"That's my point, why I'm looking into this with Blaise. If there's evidence - evidence of _something,_ I want to know."

"Just what is it that you _think_ happened, Granger?" Draco quieted his voice, keeping the his anger and indignation but masking it in low tones.

Hermione shook her head, becoming exasperated with this fight, though she somehow thought it had just begun. "I'm not sure how many times you find it necessary for me to repeat myself, Draco. I _don't know_ what happened. I'm looking into it to find out."

Draco chewed on her words for a moment, pinning her with his eyes once again. Hermione almost thought he was trying to catch her in a lie, to suss out the truth in her irises once and for all.

When he spoke again, his voice was still hard. The subject was going to return at some point, Hermione knew.

"So Crabbe told you that Blaise was being stupid, and Theo was trying to help him?" The words were measured, each cut off and tight against his teeth. His rage was seemingly simmering just under the surface.

"I don't remember exactly whether the whole house was trying to help him or not, but Theo apparently was, and he was fighting everyone."

Draco sat for a moment, thinking over her words. "Being stupid," he repeated. "Well we can assume that Blaise's academic performance wasn't the issue."

Hermione had another question on the tip of her tongue, but the topic was taboo. What's the chance of this being connected to Voldemort? Draco's Mark was a clear sign that his reach extended into Hogwarts, so the possibility was there.

"Have you heard anything?" Seeing Draco's expression, Hermione clarified herself. "About someone else fighting with Blaise, or something that he was disagreeing with everyone on?"

The silence Hermione received in response was a clear _no._

Lips set in a frown, Draco seemed distressed by this thought. Something clearly had been happening in his own House right under his nose for weeks, at least, and he'd had no idea. Not only had he not noticed, no one had mentioned it to him until now.

"So Theo thought he was helping him." Hermione thought aloud, trying to work backwards. "In Theo's mind, Blaise was doing something stupid and potentially harmful that needed to be corrected."

When Draco didn't respond, still lost in his own thoughts, Hermione continued. "What would you step in in on, then? What would you see Blaise doing and step in to help so forcefully?" She watched Draco organize his thoughts for a few seconds until he spoke again.

"It would have to be something that was going to have serious consequences. If I'm going to step in and fight him over it, he had to be in life threatening danger."

 _Life threatening,_ Hermione thought. "That could be it, then. Blaise was doing something risky, and when the others found out they tried to stop him."

"It must have been serious for so many people to fight him like that, especially somewhere people can see them," Draco mused aloud.

"Or they disagreed with him." Hermione edged in, keeping her words tempered. "He could have been doing something they didn't like, and they stepped in to end it."

Draco realized immediately what Hermione was saying, and snapped to attention again. "If you're going to start pointing fingers for murder, you'll need something to actually back it up."

"I just don't know that much, that's the issue. If I could just figure out what the Slytherins were mad about, what Blaise was _doing._ " It needed to be said, even if it led to another argument. "I need to talk to more of them; Theo, Pansy, Goyle." Hermione's anger had largely dissipated, but she felt tense, prepared for Draco to snap.

"Can you not slow down? The second you start posing questions to Pansy, she's going to know something's going on. You might as well accuse her and Theo of a murder and accompanying coverup right there in the Great Hall."

"Well," Hermione paused, glad that Draco's ire had cooled enough for her to say this. "Why don't you do it then?"

Draco snorted, "Accuse her of murder? Have you lost your bloody mind then, Granger?"

"I meant ask her, why don't you be the one posing the questions?" Hermione responded immediately, annoyed again at his retort.

Watching for his response, she was shocked to see when he slowly began nodding his head.

"You're right." His spoke slowly, letting the words slip one syllable at a time.

"I'm what?"

"Keep that ego to yourself." Draco snorted, something Hermione somewhat wished would end.

"You're one to talk."

"If I speak to Pansy, she won't suspect anything. I can get a lot more out of her than you can even dream to, and she wont hex me just for trying."

With that, Hermione understood. Draco wanted to know what happened to his friend, and he was willing to help her find out. Hopefully, this would make everything a lot easier.

More likely though, he'd lie about what Pansy said, and back Hermione into a corner with false information. She decided then, that it wouldn't hurt to hear the conversation for herself.

"When will you do it?"

Draco thought for a moment. "Sometime this week, Pansy's usually out in the common room late Tuesday nights, I think she has more Wednesday courses than usual or something. If I can catch her alone, I should be able to ask her some questions."

Hermione shared words of agreement with Draco, making a plan to be back in the Slytherin common room somehow on Tuesday night.

"It's been a long day, and I'm done talking." Draco began unbuttoning his shirt, tossing his head back at Hermione in command.

"Astounding, truly, as you're such a rousing conversationalist." Hermione retorted, moving to sit astride his lap. One of his large hands came up to rest on her thigh, warm against her bared skin. His mouth moved to her neck as she leaned in, her fingers fighting with the buttons on her skirt.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

One more time I would like to express my appreciation for every read, comment, favorite, and follow. For those leaving their thoughts in the comment section, I want you to know how much I value your response. I'm glad to know people are reading and enjoying this story, and are with me as Hermione follows this case.


	5. Chapter Five

**Monday, October 7, 1996**

"I remembered to date most of them, but I forgot a few. I hope you find something; it'd be great to get another picture printed! Maybe this time I can get my name in _The_ _Prophet!"_

Creevey's shrill voice scratched inside Hermione's skull, unending and horribly perky. Hermione wanted to consider herself a morning person, but this slew of recent late nights was pulling the pep from her step. With the extreme N.E.W.T. level work load, her odd, angry relationship with Draco, and her new efforts to uncover Blaise's secrets, Hermione needed a break soon.

Hermione thanked Creevey, gripping the pile of photographs in her palm. Few shots stood out immediately; Theo throwing his head back to laugh in the Great Hall, Blaise soaring by on his broom, their faces passing in a crowded corridor.

"It's everything I could find on Blaise and Theo, some of those I forgot even taking!" Creevey let out a shaking laugh, fist tightening around his book bag. "I have a ton of Harry too, do you want to see those? Who knows, the _Free Press_ might want them too!"

Without even thinking, Hermione scrunched her nose in annoyance. Could Harry not be left alone? She appreciated that Creevey would hand over his invasions of student privacy to do her this favor, but not enough to return it by whoring out her best friend.

"Maybe, Colin." His smile didn't dampen, but Hermione could see his lips start to break for another animated response, so she spoke again quickly. "I need to get to breakfast before my first course, I'll get these back to you soon!" They exchanged quick pleasantries, Hermione's body already turned halfway around with a hand waving goodbye.

Her feet were lead against the castle floors as she walked into the Great Hall. Ron and Harry were in her sight, steps away, but so was Draco. Hermione wanted to pretend he wasn't there, to live blissfully and forget his existence, but for some reason that was becoming impossible.

Their charade of such selfish pleasure was intoxicating, alluring, erotic, _deceitful_. Her pulse pounded in her ears at the sight of him a few tables away, not only at the memories of his weight laying over her, but also at the fear of the closest friends she'd ever known discovering her hidden shame.

Silence cut the air between Ron and Harry when she reached where they sat, but Hermione had been so caught up in the sight of her torrid attraction that she failed to take note.

"What's that?" Ron piped, watching Hermione set the stack of photographs beside her plate.

"Colin's letting me take a look at his other pictures of Theo and Blaise, trying to see if I can find anything." Hermione answered lightly.

 _Casual, casual, casual,_ she repeated. Her best friends could read her like no one else, and she wasn't sure how well she could lie about her new found investigative hobby. Too much interest would lead to prying, something she found ruefully unwelcome at the moment.

"You think Colin happened to get a picture of Blaise putting on a silver mask, then?" Harry reached across his own plate to pick up some of the photos, his face the picture of idle interest.

Ron paused the hand bringing a full cup of pumpkin juice toward his mouth, looking to Hermione. "Mask?"

"Harry thinks Blaise left Hogwarts to take up Voldemort's cause," she responded, her voice flat as her eyes laid upon Harry with exasperation.

"Is that not the most likely explanation?" Harry countered, his eyes on the photos shuffling between his hands.

Ron turned to look behind him, glancing at the Slytherin table before addressing Harry again. "Then why is Malfoy still here in the castle?"

"Being here doesn't mean he's not supporting Voldemort." The words jumped from Harry's tongue without pause, and Hermione nearly flinched.

Draco's inky mark was clear in front of her eyes, bold against her memories of his pale skin. When together, the question of his support was taboo. Though, she wasn't sure she'd be able to handle whatever answers he could provide, even if she got the courage to ask any questions.

"How could Blaise be any help? He's still under the trace, he barely- he can't even apparate yet."

"Having a Hogwarts student at your beck and – _look at this_." Harry abruptly shoved one of the photos under Hermione's nose, "It's dated September seventeenth."

"It's just Blaise with Snape," Hermione scrunched her brows, confused at Harry's insistence. "It looks like they're actually headed toward the dungeons."

The photo moved under Harry's thumb, Snape's robes flowing behind each quick step as Blaise's tense expression was caught beside him. They seemed to be in a hurry and in a tense mood. Hermione would find the aggression (or is that fear?) on Blaise's face more striking if it wasn't fitting for any student walking beside Snape. Aggression was almost the resting face of the Slytherin House, as far as she'd experienced, or maybe a sneer.

"The _seventeenth_ , Hermione. The night I couldn't meet with Dumbledore because of the Aurors, and _Snape."_

"How can you be sure this is involved, wasn't your meeting supposed to be late at night?"

"Look at that corridor, how empty and dark it is. Any time of the day there's usually nine or ten people there, minimum. This has to be after that meeting with Dumbledore, Snape went to Blaise!"

Hermione hummed, studying the photo. Creevey had some experience behind a camera, and he could easily have framed the photo to make the corridor dark and empty. If Harry was right about the date though, that _would_ be fairly suspicious. She'd need to ask Creevey what he remembered about taking the picture.

"Snape left the meeting with Order information, told Blaise everything, and then Blaise left Hogwarts to tell Voldemort!"

"Fine, assuming this photo was taken after the meeting, why would Snape need a messenger in Blaise? If he's working for Voldemort, it wouldn't make sense to send a student every time they spoke."

"It might not have been a message, maybe he took something with him, something Voldemort wanted."

 _The pouch!_ Hermione had yet to figure out what Blaise had taken from his trunk that night, as it could have been anything, especially with a well-placed extension charm. Harry just might be on to something, she was reluctant to admit. He was spot on about Draco working as a death eater (doing what, she couldn't be sure), and he just might be right about this.

Harry returned to shuffling through the photos again, hopeful to spot something else important.

"What would he want from the castle? It must have been something Blaise could get to easily." Hermione turned the theory over in her mind.

"Hogwarts isn't really under lock and key. Remember first year?" Ron laughed, looking to Hermione with an easy smile.

"So if Blaise left to-"

"Did he have a girlfriend?" Harry piped up, voice rising in the rush of words.

"I don't kn-"

Another photo was thrust under Hermione's nose. This one was dark, only a sliver of light shining on Blaise's smirking face. From the imposing stone and seemingly dank atmosphere, she thought the light could be from a dungeon classroom. The movement was quick, but there was definitely something whipping through the doorway just before Blaise followed. Eyes squinting at the image, Hermione realized what it must be. A skirt.

"Looks like he did," Hermione conceded.

"Or a bloke willing to dress up." Ron laughed again at his comment, shrugging his shoulders. Harry gave his own quick chuckle, pulling the photo back to watch again.

Hermione peeked at the photo's back as Harry held it in front of him, looking for the date. _02/09/1996_ was scratched there in jolted writing, meaning Blaise had a girl here at Hogwarts _this term_. Glancing around the hall, her eyes swept over the other girls. One of them had been close to Blaise, and she was keeping it to herself.

"Mystery witch. Any guesses?" Harry peeked his eyes up to Ron and Hermione, brows lifted.

Ron shook his head, focused on the eggs in front of him. "Can't say I thought much of him."

"There's only so many Pureblood Slytherins in Hogwarts. It shouldn't be hard to narrow down," Hermione shrugged, eyeing the Slytherin table.

Draco looked unfocused, absently chewing something while watching the students mill around him. Ron and Harry were listing girls who could have been dating Blaise, but Hermione found herself absent from the conversation.

She watched him bring a hand to his hair, smoothing it back. Her fingers felt heavy, longing to run through his soft silver hair. Draco's jaw flexed underneath the pale skin it stretched. Bringing her warm mug of tea in front of her face, Hermione tried to hide the involuntary lick of her lips.

She wanted to bite that jaw. She wanted to feel the weight of him inside her, the pressure of his chest against her back, the heat of his breath on her neck.

Hermione decided then, that she would take time to be selfish today. Again.

She had her extra prefects work scheduled for tonight, so he would need to work around her schedule this time. Convenient timing or not, she could only walk around fantasizing like this for so long until she went after Draco right here in the Great Hall.

"So Pansy then? I remember them being _friendly,"_ Ron looked between the other two, suggesting a consensus.

Hermione shook her head then. "She's with Theo." But did that matter? The matter of Pansy and Draco had yet to be resolved, meaning an affair between her and Blaise wouldn't be entirely unlikely.

"How can you tell?" Harry craned his neck to peek at the Slytherins as well. "They're so slimy and rude, romantic hardly comes to mind."

She waited a moment to decide on an answer that was both definitive but elusive, but Harry spoke again before she could reply.

"Like Malfoy, how could any girl be tricked into kissing that pointy git?" His eyes were slits, staring hard across the Hall. Hermione turned to see the cause of his ire, and saw Draco looking back pointedly. She flinched slightly, as she always seemed to do now when her friends mixed with Draco.

He was staring Harry down with matching displeasure, purposefully chewing a piece of toast between ripped bites. Hermione turned quickly back to Harry, plucking the image of Blaise and the mystery skirt from his fingers.

"Well there's at least one girl in this school willing to get close to him, that's been proven. I'll just see if Creevey remembers who it was." She tried to keep her voice light, but purposefully directed all attention back toward their own table.

Given Creevey's earlier statements on the photos, she thought it unlikely that he'd remember the circumstances of these. Less important, she also had no interest in speaking to him again too soon. Hermione would just ask Draco what he knew of Blaise's affairs, but the boys didn't need to know that.

A new question now bounced in Hermione's mind, waiting to be unleashed upon Draco.

Who was Blaise's girlfriend?

 **Monday, October 7, 1996**

 _Fifth floor, behind the third suit of armor. Now._

Hermione sent the note with a sense of finality. What good was a torrid affair if it wouldn't work to her needs? For some reason, she needed to feel that bite of release today, and she was going to make Draco give it to her. The small plane quickly returned to her.

 _Busy. Since when are the suits of armor numbered?_

A huff left Hermione's mouth as she read the note. Busy, he says. That was fine and dandy, it really was, but he had a job to do (weird as it may be).

 _Fifth floor, behind the third suit of armor, furthest from the window. Now._

Hermione scribbled this new message below his, hoping to make herself clear. In the years she'd had Draco as an antagonist in her life, she'd never know him to be a diligent student. Now was not the time for him to make a change.

She glanced around the library. The books seemed dull. Nothing matched the blood pumping within her, the energy she felt.

When the requisite two minutes had passed and no note had graced her sights, Hermione left for the fifth floor. There was studying to be done, yes, but she couldn't even _dream_ of focusing until this was done.

Light was still filtering through the castle, casting orange hues as the sunset sprawled upon the stone walls. The spot she'd chosen however was pitch black. Behind the third suit of armor on the fifth floor was a space of total darkness; it created a place of endless midnight. A perfect meeting spot for those never to be seen together.

She arrived first, which she found tiring. Why did she have to be doing this with Draco? He was the epitome of exhausting, and _inconvenient._ He could also be a lousy kisser when lazy, she noted.

Then again – he did that _thing_ with his thumb when trying to get her off, and his hands were just _godly._

If she could just get him alone, _god,_ she couldn't wait. The _thought_ of him just taking her. Quick and rough and _angry._

Soon, she could hear the steady tapping on Draco's shoes coming nearer.

The corridor was suddenly entirely too warm, and Hermione was peeling the sweater from her body when Draco _finally_ sauntered into view.

His mouth opened, seemingly to make some snarky comment.

Hermione decided she had no interest in hearing it, immediately connecting their lips and tongues. They had plenty to discuss, but that was the last thing she wanted at the moment.

Fingers gripped her hip, pressing her body against his. _This_ was the feeling. Exactly what she was looking for, that _pressure_. Mouth hot against hers, Draco let out a moan, nipping hard at her lip. Tingling sprung on Hermione's forehead where his fringe spilled over, warmth ripped over her chest where they touched, rough stone hit her back where Draco pressed her to the wall.

Hermione slipped an ankle behind his, pushing herself into him. She stretched her fingers, wanting to touch every inch of him. Kneading and pressing and _pushing._

One of his hands slid up her back, dragging against her spine, stopping to grasp her neck, holding her tight. His signet ring was cold against the fire raging under her skin.

Hermione broke the kiss, her mouth moving down his jaw.

"Minx, you-" The pain of teeth nipping into his neck released a groan from Draco, echoing into the empty corridor, words trapped in his throat. When she began kissing the spot, he spoke again. "Can't get enough of me, now?"

Hermione could tell he forced his voice lower then, speaking deeper than he normally does. She was slightly put off at noticing this, but reveled in the rumbling sound.

His thigh nudged between hers, dropping the remaining hand from her hip to grasp her bare thigh. Time slowed as his thumb rubbed against her cold skin. She felt caught in the feeling.

"Do you want to shag me or not?"

Hermione didn't give him time to respond. She pushed further onto his thigh, bringing her mouth back to his with purpose. Every touch felt cleansing. The heat pulsing from his body fighting the corridor's cool air, the spicy aftershave lingering on his jaw, the jumping of his uneven breath.

Nimble fingers held her tighter and her moan caught in his mouth.

A small _pat_ sounded in the distance, and they both froze like statues, tongues and all. _For the love of Merlin,_ Hermione thought, hoping with her entire being that they weren't about to get caught. Draco pulled his mouth from hers, moving his head down her jaw, neck, shoulder, chest, unbuttoning her uniform as he dropped. She tipped her head back against the chilled stone, biting her lip to keep quiet. No other sounds had come, but just the idea of being interrupted was enough.

"So smooth," Draco whispered, baring his teeth against the top of her breast.

"Touch me, you prat," Hermione breathed into the darkness, running a hand through his mussed hair.

 **Tuesday, October 8, 1996**

Ron and Harry were acting odd.

Considering how much her attention had been focused elsewhere this past month, she couldn't be sure this was new. She'd been sitting with them in the common room earlier this evening when she (finally?) noticed it.

Harry had brought up the next possible Slug Club meeting, asking when she thought it might be. Before Hermione could consider her answer, she saw Ron nearly _fall_ from his chair. His eye roll had somehow incorporated his entire torso, a feat in dramatics itself. Even further though, was that Harry seemed to not even notice.

When she'd finally torn her eyes from the new one man show named _Ronald Weasley_ and given Harry her thoughts, he'd simply turned back to that blasted potions book. Yes, odd indeed.

Hermione had much more important things to think of at that moment though.

She currently sat outside the Slytherin common room, disillusioned and cold, waiting for some wayward younger year to open the portrait. Tonight was the time to eavesdrop on Draco and Pansy, and she could only hope she hadn't missed them already. The plan had been to simply whisper the overheard password, sneak inside, and wait. That however, had a wrench thrown in it when the password had been curtly denied. Dumbledore's new security measures had included random password changes, she knew, but she hadn't realized they were staggered.

The Gryffindor password hadn't changed since she'd last been snuck into Draco's dorm, and she'd foolishly assumed the Slytherin commons would be the same.

In the next ten minutes or so she'd spent chilling her arse on the dungeon floor, she tried to apply logic to Ron's response. Mostly because, like before, any rift between the boys would leave her stranded. Of the many social options available, that was low on her list of favorites. She quickly deduced that Ron was upset about not being invited to the Club, stemming from the same insecurity that caused all of their other fights. At the time, she didn't see much she could do to help Ron, but kept the idea in mind for another time.

Hermione had moved on to thinking about Harry's potions book when the portrait finally began to creak open. A shaggy head slowly peaked through the small opening, and Hermione tried to silently stand while he scanned the corridor for anyone patrolling. Satisfied, he then sneaked his body out of the threshold, holding the portrait open for a girl to follow.

At best Hermione could tell in the darkness, they were likely third or fourth years. She had the instinctive urge to write them up, especially with a student missing and the castle under tight watch, but felt revealing herself would be slightly too hypocritical.

Just before the portrait closed behind them, she wedged her palm in the small space to prop it open. When she was sure she'd heard their footsteps patter away, she opened the doorway once more to enter through.

"They're gone, portrait clicked." Pansy's squeaky voice barely carried far enough for Hermione to hear.

She quickly continued into the room, careful to keep her footsteps as light and silent as possible while scanning her surroundings. Draco and Pansy were settled at opposite ends of a black couch, the furthest away from any doorways Hermione could see.

It was clear she had already missed some of their conversation, she just hoped there was more to hear.

"The article?" His voice was deep, put on for show, and it matched his casual expression. One lean leg was crossed over another, ankle over knee, and an arm was resting over the couch's back. Hermione so rarely saw him splayed out like this in comfort, while still wearing clothes, that it was almost surreal.

Pansy nodded. "He asked me to, you know him. They'd been fighting for months now, and he didn't want people singling him out when Blaise went missing. I found that Ravenclaw bint and told her what she wanted to hear, smoothed things over for the time being."

"So he told you to say nothing was happening with Blaise?" Draco tilted his head, leaning only a fraction closer.

"In so many words." Pansy shrugged. "He asked me to help, and I did." She shook her head, resigned to this fact. Theo asked, and she obliged, no questions asked.

"He must be worried over that picture getting printed."

"I don't know. Theo's like you, stoic, he doesn't want to tell me anything."

"He hasn't said _anything_ about Blaise?" Draco's words spilled from behind his lips, and Pansy studied him for a moment, taking note. He quickly leaned back, restoring his casual façade under her scrutiny.

"Other than asking me to muffle the row, not much. Even then, Blaise's been fighting with us for weeks now, you've seen it. If I didn't know better I'd think he was someone else under Polyjuice."

Hermione rooted for Draco to ask what the fights were about. Pansy _must_ know, and she seems to even think Draco knows too. How has no one else caught on if every Slytherin upperclassmen apparently knows, especially in such a nosy school like Hogwarts?

"Yeah," Draco hummed, watching Pansy shake her head. "What do you think, then?" He was playing it safe, Hermione could tell. Apparently Pansy had no idea how little he'd kept up with the Slytherin goings-on, and he had no plans to share.

"I don't know. Blaise is gone. Theo and Crabbe keep saying it was _time for this_ and _it was bound to happen_ , but – Blaise?" She looked to Draco, pursing her lips. "He was like their brother – _your brother_ , could they really? No one wants to talk about him, like they've agreed to let this just pass. I just don't know, I don't want to imagine Theo was involved, but he won't _talk_ to me." Pansy sighed.

Pulling her legs up to the couch, Pansy rested them across his lap, as though she'd done it a million times. Other than a glance acknowledging the movement, Draco looked just as comfortable.

The thought was present in Hermione's mind, as much as she tried to ignore it, that this could all be an elaborate farce. Pansy and Draco were clearly comfortable together, and it was hard to be sure what was going on between them. She obviously felt strongly for Theo, but an affair with Draco was still a possibility.

Most confusing were Pansy's motives here. Hermione tried to logically work through them; protecting Theo; covering up Blaise's circumstances; maintaining her reputation. They were murky at best, and this conversation wasn't helping Hermione much.

"Did you talk to Blaise then? Before he went missing," Draco clarified.

Pansy leaned her head back on the couch at his words, giving her response careful thought before looking back at Draco.

"We fought again, about the same things. It was quick. He didn't want to listen to me – to _reason."_

They sat in silence for a moment, and Hermione could feel the tension.

"How is it coming, Draco? You've been busy, any progress?"

Draco scanned the room quickly, checking doorways for anyone listening in. When his eyes passed over her, Hermione held her breath. She could only imagine his rage if he were to find her now.

"It's fine. I have a plan." He was curt, keeping his eyes on a painting over Pansy's shoulder.

Pansy reached a hand to rest on his arm. "Let us _help_ , Draco."

"Drop this, Pansy." Draco looked directly at her now, and Hermione was familiar with that glower. He was pinning her with his gaze, unwavering.

Hermione couldn't be sure what Pansy was referencing, but that had clearly ended any goodwill in the conversation. Draco quickly bade her goodnight, leaving for the boys dorms.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I'm so happy to once again thank everyone for their involvement with this story. Those who have shared their thoughts with me are greatly appreciated, and I hope they understand how much. However, I am thankful for every favorite, follow, and read.


	6. Chapter Six

**Thursday, October 10, 1996**

Hermione's mind had been analyzing every piece of Draco and Pansy's conversation for two days now.

She knew she needed to run through this with Draco soon, he was the only person who really knew how far she was falling down this rabbit hole. But even then, what about what Pansy had said at the end? Draco had seemed nearly enraged, and Hermione just couldn't figure out why.

From their conversations so far, Hermione hadn't been under the impression she knew absolutely everything about him, but what _was_ that?

Pansy seemed to think it had something to do with Blaise, and Draco had nearly recoiled at the thought of discussing it. Had Hermione been looking in the wrong direction? Was Draco hiding something from her? Just asking him about the supposed _plan_ would have been her first choice, but apparently he wouldn't take kindly to that. Maybe she needed to do some investigating into his own recent past.

For now though, it was time to hear what Draco would tell her about his talk with Pansy. Hermione somewhat hoped she'd missed something while waiting outside, and that Draco wouldn't try hiding it.

The fork in her hand shoved the remaining food around her plate. Hermione's head felt weighted, bore down with the heft of all these questions. If she could just _talk_ about it, work through this with someone else.

"Not awake just yet?" Ron's voice broke through her mental fog, ringing clearly.

Hermione's head whipped up, looking at him. "I guess not. I wouldn't mind a few more hours."

"Wouldn't we all. Bloody well spent, I am."

She glanced around for a moment, eyes glazing over the table. "Do you see coffee anywhere?" Breathing slow, Hermione closed her eyes for a moment. Her first course would begin soon, and the last thing she needed was to sleep through it.

Blearily, she watched as Ron reached over a few seats to grab a carafe, setting it between them.

Hermione thanked him. For a while they sat in silence, with him eating everything in sight and her mindlessly sipping from her warm coffee.

It wasn't long until Hermione felt eyes on her. Familiar with the frequent paranoia that often accompanied being near Draco in public, she quickly turned her head to scan the Slytherin table.

Draco was there, chewing in silence. His face looked sallow and pale, tired. For a moment, she wanted to walk over there and ask just what exactly gave him the right to be that tired; what needed _his_ attention so badly? She couldn't remember him ever spending a long night working in the library. This was not the time for that argument though. It was never a bright idea to stomp over to the Slytherin table and start a row just from sheer pettiness.

Still feeling the itch of an onlooker, Hermione shifted her head back to her own table. Immediately she was pinned by Ron's stare, as he seemed to be deciding whether to speak.

When his gaze met Hermione's questioning look, the words eventually fell from his lips.

"What have you been doing? To be so – I mean, I didn't see you in the library a few nights ago when Nigel said he saw you sneak out."

Breath caught in her throat, fist clenching, Hermione opened her mouth to respond. She tried to think quickly, but she couldn't decide how to deflect the question entirely. "Well, I –"

"Harry said Fay heard you leave too, a couple times now. They were asking about where you went, but even we don't have any idea, Hermione. We're all tired, but Harry said he didn't ask for your help with anything recently." Ron let out a huff, sagging his shoulders dramatically. "What are you doing?"

Hermione bit her tongue, tensing her muscles and clenching her fists in effort to not fidget. "Well, Ron." She sipped her coffee again, hoping to look calm under his stare. "I _was_ in the library, but in the back so Filch wouldn't see me, of course. It's impossible to study with all those girls flitting around the dorm, making all that racket, it's like trying to revise with a Quidditch game whipping around your bed."

"I looked in the back, and you weren't there."

"You looked, _really_ looked, Ron?"

"I did _look,_ Hermione! That blasted library is only so big."

"I don't know what to tell you then, Ronald. I was there, studying." His mouth opened to respond again, and Hermione quickly continued speaking. "If you're going to linger around the library after curfew you might as well be studying too! N.E.W.T. season is only so far away, every little bit of work counts." Hermione sipped her coffee again, looking away. _Please,_ she thought, willing Ron to drop the subject.

Ron started speaking in response but quickly was cut off by Harry's timely arrival.

"Morning," Harry gloomily said, dropping quickly into the seat beside Hermione.

"Not a happy one?" The words jumped from Hermione's tongue, glad to move on from Ron's pestering.

Harry grumbled, shaking his head at the table. "Forty-five bloody inches! Thirty due today, bloody ridiculous!"

"Thirty?" Ron snapped, his brows raised in surprise at Harry. "I thought it was only twenty!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, she was _tired_ of listening to them complain about essays, especially considering how behind they let themselves get. If they would just take her advice about proper time management – she couldn't listen to them any longer.

Tuning them out, Hermione waited until the monotonous rant calmed. For a moment she was glad to distantly hear them complain. The tension rolled from her shoulders, calm without Ron's prying eyes studying her.

"So has anything been said about Blaise?"

Hermione's attention returned at hearing the name, noticing Harry's furrowed brow.

What had she told them already? Tracing back previous conversations, Hermione tried to be judicious. No need to tip her hand just yet, if ever, on what she was doing.

"Not that I remember, since Dumbledore's announcement." She looked to Ron, knowing he'd respond the same.

Harry shook his head, glancing up to the professor's table. "Three weeks now, right? What does Dumbledore think happened?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Ron quipped, gesturing toward the Headmaster.

"Because he's always so forthcoming with me." Harry's voice was flat, his mouth thin as he looked to Ron.

Hermione pursed her lips. "Well what do _you_ think then?"

"Malfoy, Voldemort, Snape, etcetera." Harry shrugged, suggesting the answer was obvious.

"Then why is everyone still here? If kids were being picked off by Death Eaters right here in the castle, why aren't parents out protesting in Hogsmeade?" Hermione leaned in to Harry, though she didn't have the answer either.

The three were silent for a moment, mulling it over.

 **Monday, October 14, 1996**

Eager as Hermione was to speak with Draco, for a multitude of reasons, she still hadn't done it.

The weekend had drowned her in work, something one Potions assignment had almost made literal. The thought of killing hours in a clandestine meeting seemed woefully unrealistic.

"What in the bloody hell is in that bag?"

Hermione flinched, startled by his voice. She'd been walking slowly up to Gryffindor tower, lugging hours' worth of work over her shoulder. At some point she'd become lost in thought, wishing to already be asleep.

"Books, parchment, ink. Are you unfamiliar?" The words snapped quicker than she'd meant them too, her voice coming out cold.

She turned around to face Draco. They were alone in the hall, unsurprising with how close curfew was. His hair was disheveled, pieces filtering the side of his face. Shadows under his eyes made him look as tired as she felt.

"Rarely am I carrying a book so heavy that I can't fully stand up."

"Is that because you rarely carry books at all?"

"Don't be jealous, just because we have the same grades and I barely have to work for it."

"Since when have we ever had the same grades, Malfoy?" Hermione shook her head, releasing a defeated sigh. "We need to talk about what you learned from Pansy."

"She doesn't want to say it, but she thinks Theo and Crabbe killed him."

Hermione's eyes widened, glancing around the corridor.

" _Godric,_ Malfoy. Can we not talk about this later? Specifically not in the corridor where anyone could hear?" She whispered, keeping her voice low.

"Curfew's in four minutes Granger, calm down. No one's here to listen."

"Four minutes! I need to go, now." She shifted the bag on her shoulder, her muscles burning under stress. "Thursday night, okay?" Hermione looked to him, wishing she could just apparate up to her dorm and fall asleep.

"That's not –"

"Draco?"

Hermione tensed, closing her eyes to block out this moment. _Please, tell me he didn't hear everything. Please._ Her heart beat faster, her arms felt heavy, her jaw locked tight. She turned around, losing sight of Draco at her back.

"Theo." Draco went rigid, locking his eyes over Hermione's shoulder.

"Prowling the corridors?"

"You could be asked the same."

"Granger." Theo looked at her. She felt almost more tense than before, like she was being _appraised_ in some sick way. From all she could tell, she could be standing across from a killer at this very moment. The person who killed Blaise. The person who tried to kill Katie _three days ago_.

Neither Hermione nor Draco spoke in response. Both faced Theo in silence, waiting.

"This seems oddly _friendly_. Are you walking in Blaise's path then, Draco?"

Hermione almost took a step back at the name, wishing for more distance between her and Theo. Was he threatening to murder Draco, right there, in front of her?

"I can't say I know what you're referring to." Draco's voice was just as hard, tension seeping in the air between them. Hermione needed to speak, to step in somehow. She let the bag slide from her shoulder and hit the stone floor with a resounding thud.

"Well, color me surprised. Given your recent, well – responsibility, I wouldn't have guessed this new development."

The idea came to mind, and the words immediately passed her teeth. "I don't know what you're trying to _not_ say Theo, but I'm just here seeing what Draco knew about Blaise's disappearance." She took a quick breath, steeling her expression. "So you can quit with these confusing accusations." Crossing her arms, Hermione tried to stick her nose up just slightly.

"Ah, I see." Theo gave a condescending laugh, shaking his head slowly. "I was close. Right witch, wrong wizard."

It took Hermione only a moment to understand what he was insinuating. Theo thought she had been _involved_ with Blaise. That she was searching for her lost lover. Behind her, closer than she remembered, she heard Draco clear his throat.

"Then you're a poor detective, if anything. Draco's been rather," Theo hummed in the pause. A smile dripping with snark ripped across his cheeks, as though he was thoroughly amused by the whole affair. " _Occupied_ lately. If you're looking for Blaise, Draco's going to be roughly as helpful as a brick wall."

"Well." Hermione tipped her nose in the air, hoping to look convincing, casual, _collected._ "You won't mind if I ask _you_ some questions then?"

Theo seemed affronted by the request, but hardened himself immediately. "And what questions would those be?"

Hermione tried to organize her thoughts quickly. There were so many things buzzing in her mind, questions she wanted to ask, answers she was afraid to get.

"When did you last see Blaise?"

"A few days before Dumbledore's announcement, in Transfiguration."

Draco stepped forward to Theo and Hermione, nearly shoulder to shoulder with her. "That's when Dumbledore said he was last seen, in class."

Hermione nodded slowly, thinking. Somehow, she felt emboldened by Draco's closeness. Theo seemed wary of Draco's intentions from the start, and there was no way he'd strike her right now. He'd be risking an outnumbered fight. She might as well see what she could get.

"After the breakfast row?"

Theo pursed his lips, stowing a clenched fist in his pocket. "A couple hours later."

"Care to share what that row was about?"

"Your _lover_ didn't tell you?" Theo taunted.

Hermione rolled her eyes, annoyed at his reference. Sleeping with one Slytherin was bad enough, she didn't need people thinking she'd been intimate with Blaise as well.

Theo continued, seeing neither Draco nor Hermione would be speaking. "Well, I'm not one to be the bearer of bad news, but you weren't his only one. I was telling him to stop seeing a girl, and he wasn't taking the advice well."

"What girl?" The words jumped from Hermione's lips immediately.

"Jealous, Granger? Don't worry," he laughed. "I'm sure whatever sweaty rub down he gave you in the Room of Requirement was _very_ special to him."

"Do you think he enjoyed his time with Pansy the same?" Hermione tilted her head, hoping for a reaction. Just how secure _was_ he in that relationship?

Theo stepped closer, malice contorting his face, "Just because you're sad over being sidelined doesn't mean the same is happening to me."

Hermione watched him for a second. Nothing gave away any insecurities from what she could see. If anything, he seemed more angry at the accusation than anything else. Insulted that Hermione would dare speak against him and Pansy.

 _Would he feel the same if it was Draco and not Blaise?_

"Then why do you care who Blaise was sleeping with? If it's not in your bed or with your girlfriend, I can't imagine why you'd be so against it." Hermione narrowed her eyes, glancing to check that Draco was still close by.

Draco seemed to be watching Theo intently, studying every word as it left Theo's lips. She could feel the dull warmth of his side near her own, and felt somewhat calmed by it. Not wanting to think of what that disturbing realization could mean, Hermione quickly chalked it up to the security of not being alone with Theo.

"Because he was making a poor decision, and I wanted to help. Do you see any issue with that?" Snark coated every syllable, twisting Theo's face into mild ire.

"Yes, _help,_ that again. What was _so_ bloody wrong with him having a girlfriend?"

"The act wasn't an issue, the girl was." Theo took another step forward, almost predatorily. " _Oh,_ pardon me. The _girls_ were _."_ He spat the words at Hermione.

Hermione thought again, deciding what to try next.

"Is that what all the rows were about, then? You two seemed to have gone at it all over the castle."

"In a simplified way, yes." Theo gave an angry shrug, his face tight. "I wanted him to end it, he wanted me to leave him alone."

"Fine, then why? _Why_ did you want him to stop so badly?" Hermione shook her head, watching him.

Theo narrowed his eyes, growing almost angrier. "Do you need me to spell it out for you? The girl was a mudblood." Theo curled a lip in revulsion. "Blaise knew his responsibilities, and was spitting in our faces."

She recoiled, glancing quickly at Draco. His face was the picture of discomfort, mouth down turned, eyes pinched, body tense. Hermione wanted him to speak, to take the pressure from her for just a moment, but he wouldn't. What could he say?

Once again, she was reminded of the mark seared into his arm, the dark skull she pretended wasn't there. Boys in the dorms weren't surprised to see it, she knew. The culture of fear and contempt in the Slytherin house was well documented, and it seemed that Draco couldn't be the only one wearing His mark.

"Are you saying Blaise was a Death Eater then? He'd taken the mark?" Her voice wavered, she knew, no matter how strong she willed it to sound.

Theo gave a haughty glance at Draco. His mouth opened to speak, but no words came out. The silence resounded, until Hermione heard it.

Footsteps.

The sound was coming closer. Hermione needed to leave – _now_.

Both hands whipped down to grab her bag, throwing it over her shoulder with haste. The steps weren't far away now. Theo had already left, turned a corner and slipping back to the dungeons.

She had seconds to disappear, hopefully toward Gryffindor tower. Draco was gone, she'd assumed, but a hand grabbed her arm. She'd nearly gasped, only stopping because the sound would have surely given them away. Draco was grasping her tight, lugging her around the corner, barely escaping as Filch's voice rang out.

"Who's there?"

Hearing Filch still shouting close behind, Hermione tried to keep her shoes silent. Books she'd managed to carry only minutes ago now seemed twice as heavy in her bag, weighing down the strap, cutting into her shoulder, slapping rhythmically against her legs. Looking beside her, Draco seemed almost calm, walking quickly. His eyes didn't stray from where they were walking. The fingers still tightly wrapped around her arm were the only real obvious expression of tension.

A heavy sigh of release passed her lips, glad to be away from Theo, away from Filch.

She and Draco paused when they reached the closest staircase. Seemingly just then noticing what he'd done, he rapidly released his hold on her, shoving the offending hand in to his pocket.

The cold corridors were silent once again, Filch having been left behind in their many winding turns.

She'd already missed curfew, but hopefully someone had covered for her. Given that Harry and Ron had yet to burst in with the Marauders Map in their hands, she suspected someone was being a bit relaxed in their curfew checks.

Hermione glanced around once. Somewhere in her mind, she feared that Theo would be lurking in the shadows, waiting for Draco to leave her alone.

She wouldn't ask him to walk her upstairs though, no. She couldn't. Any expression of protection he'd shown in helping her escape Filch was pure animal instinct. A mindful Draco was not a protective Draco.

Adjusting the grueling weight she carried, Hermione shifted on her feet.

"Thursday?" She whispered.

"Maybe. I'll tell you when I know."

 **Friday, October 18, 1996**

Hermione had yet to hear from Draco.

Yet, she did hear from someone else; _The Daily Prophet._

The _Hogwarts Free Press_ had circulated this morning as well, but Hermione paid it little attention. Today's breaking news covered last week's Quidditch game and Harry levitating Ron by his foot. Two stories Hermione had already heard enough of.

Spread between her hands, covering whatever food was left on her plate, was _The_ _Prophet._

 _Prominent Crabbe Suspected for Dark Sympathies,_ the front page announced.

Hermione glanced across the hall, looking for the younger Crabbe. Pudgy as it was, his face clearly expressed his displeasure. Any _Prophets_ that were around him had been removed, it seemed. Then again, there weren't any _HFP_ s nearby either. Hermione guessed that had to do with the wizard-interest story this week.

While she was watching, he noticed a young Hufflepuff looking at him just a second too long. Crabbe gave the girl a menacing look, quickly backed up by Goyle.

From what Hermione could tell, he seemed more annoyed by the overwhelming attention than anything else. When speaking to his fellow Slytherins; Theo, Goyle, Pansy, he puffed his chest, raising his nose. Hermione could immediately recognize the pride crossing his features.

Draco was absent from the table. She could have sworn she'd seen him when entering, and assumed that he must have left breakfast early.

Attention returning to the paper, Hermione skimmed it with the small amount of trust it deserved. For a moment, she could have sworn she recognized the reporter's name, but she couldn't be sure just from memory.

According to the article, Crabbe Sr. had been brought into the Ministry for questioning regarding his ties to the Death Eaters. Other than this, Hermione couldn't really identify any evidence against him, or any outcomes from the supposed investigation. She wasn't usually one to take the _Prophet_ for face value, but she suspected they were dead on with Crabbe Sr.

"Did you see, Hermione?" Ron grinned, shoving his pilfered copy of _HFP_ above her paper.

The copy was folded to showcase Ron and Harry's shining moment. A small photo on the side showed a recreation of the event, Ron hovering over his bed, dangling by his foot, his pajamas billowing. The same grin beside her was gleaming in the photo as well, reveling in the attention.

"It looks great, Ron, really. The picture captures the moment really well!" Hermione tried to fake some enthusiasm, tired of pretending this story was fascinating.

"I've had my picture in the paper before, but never a quote!" Ron's excitement only seemed to increase the longer he stared at the paper. His quote was the focal point, a few rambling sentences detailing what he remembered. Of course, Hermione knew, one or two of those sentences only 'resurfaced' in his memory when asked by Hannah for this so called _article_.

"Professor," Harry plastered on a smile as Slughorn walked by, nodding his head in greeting.

Noticing the false cheer in his friend's voice, Ron's face broke into an amused grin. "So who're you taking, Harry?" Ron playfully nudged his shoulder from across the table.

Harry furrowed his brows, looking at Ron in confusion, "To what?"

"He means to Slughorn's Christmas party." Hermione added. Ron looked to her for a moment, nodding.

"Oh," Harry scrunched his nose. "I'm not sure, really." Ron glanced around the room, but Hermione watched as Harry took a long look down the Gryffindor table.

"I haven't seen Cho with anyone lately, could give that another go." Ron shrugged, eyeing up the girl from across the hall.

Harry quickly shook his head, leaning back from the table. "Uh, no. No, I'll find someone else."

Ron shook his head, looking next to Hermione. "You haven't found someone yet, then?"

Hermione bristled, Draco coming to mind. They didn't have the kind of relationship where she'd want him accompanying her to parties and such, but she almost couldn't imagine asking someone else while carrying on with him.

"I hadn't given it any thought, really." Though she was always an early planner, asking someone to waste a few hours with Slughorn seemed like the least of her worries right now. Maybe she'd just ask Neville, he'd be happy to go without the expectations of something more.

Ron hummed thoughtfully, looking at Hermione pointedly. "You really should ask someone soon, it might be tough finding a wizard who'll go."

The _Prophet_ crinkled in her newly clenched fist, bunching loudly. "What exactly is it you mean by that, Ronald?"

Ron leaned back from Hermione, distancing himself almost imperceptibly. "It's just that, not every wizard here will wanna go with you. There's so many other people here in Hogwarts close to our age."

Hermione felt her teeth clench, heat rising to her cheeks. "I will not be reduced to begging some boy to go to a bloody Christmas party with me. If it comes to it, I'll go alone and be perfectly happy."

Ron shook his head, furrowing his brows. "No, Hermione. If you ask someone soon, what I'm telling you is you _won't_ have to go alone."

"Stop being such an absolute _knob,"_ Hermione spit the words like steel, enraged to once again be belittled by Ronald Weasley. "After your bloody fit about not being part of the Slug Club, I thought _you_ would come with me. Now I see that I'll be making other arrangements."

At that, she grabbed her bag and left the hall without another word.

Hermione couldn't _believe_ how angry he'd made her. So blatantly _condescending_ and – _bloody hell!_ Why did every wizard in this bloody school speak like she was the chocolate under their shoe? She was running out of patience with these boys.

She recalled how she'd felt the same after his repeated belittling around the Yule Ball, how devastated she was to be hurt by the boy she'd fancied. That heartbreak was missing though, Ron had cleared himself as a viable partner over and over. Why would she fancy someone she couldn't even speak to?

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I'm so happy to once again thank everyone for sharing their thoughts with me. Also, to those reading, following, favoriting, and keeping up with this story, thank you! Hopefully everyone had a lovely new year and holidays, thank you so much for helping Hermione get to the bottom of it!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Sunday, October 20, 1996**

Hermione rolled her shoulders, every muscle in her body taut from stress. Over the last week she'd been feeling like a rigid rubber band, pulling and pulling and _pulling._ She would snap soon. She was sure of it.

Coursework, N.E.W.T.s, Blaise, Voldemort, Theo - it was all piling like boulders upon her.

Over the past couple months, she'd come to see her time with Draco as a stress reliever. Which was ridiculous, of course. They bickered, they quipped, and they fucked. It was like a mental retreat and a battle of wits all in one. Almost two weeks had passed since their last rendezvous however, and Hermione was nearly ashamed of how much she was looking forward to seeing him this evening.

This morning they'd finally been able to arrange a meeting. An hour had been spent in a flurry of passive aggressive memos, trying to set a time with Draco while still paying attention to her Runes textbook. Tonight at seven o' clock outside the Slytherin dorms, they'd decided.

Hermione stood there now in the cold dungeons, disillusioned and waiting for her devious encounter to begin. She hoped to not wait much longer. Her tired body craved the warm release that his presence brought.

Draco appeared quickly, nodding his head in the area she generally stood. The tension in her body heightened from his presence, alight with the crackling energy that seemed to follow him. Feet tapping lightly under her, Hermione moved to shadow him through the portrait. If anyone in the common room noticed the echoing of her feet behind his, they failed to react, laughing genially with those around them.

Once the pair had reached the seclusion of Draco's curtained bed, Hermione could feel her shoulders drop with a long sigh. Darkness enveloped the pair, stripping away the fear of prying eyes and loose lips. Hermione had grown to find comfort in this shadowy space, it was almost like crawling inside her own mind. Her worries and fears were still ever present, but she could almost pretend time was frozen around her. She stepped into her own alternate reality.

"What's wrong with you?" Draco quirked his brows, watching the tightly wound girl in front of him. Tension radiated from her in every direction.

"Long couple of weeks." Hermione answered tersely. She had no wish to delve into her recent tête-à-têtes with Ron or how much the situation with Blaise and Katie had been weighing on her.

Draco's palm raised to his face, taking a heavy swipe downward as though to clear the weariness there. She examined him for a moment. All the exhaustion and tension in her own body seemed to be mirrored in his. Locks of light hair filtered messily over his forehead. He needed a trim. His inquisitive eyes seemed sunken, projecting a level of exhaustion that she understood entirely.

"For us all." He agreed.

Hermione sighed again. Her back was aching, likely a side effect from her gargantuan bag. Stretching her chest forward, she pressed her palms to her back, hoping she could relieve some of the growing stiffness there.

"How bloody old are you? You look as though you need a walking stick just to traverse the castle." Draco eyed her movements, scrutinizing them.

"I've just been stressed recently, Draco." She threw him a heated look. "There's no need to be a _nag_ about it." Annoyed as she may have been, Hermione began removing her shirt all the same.

Draco let out an overly posh scoff. "I am _not_ being a nag, Granger." Nimble fingers raised to unbutton his own shirt.

"Don't lie, you can't pull it off." Hermione quipped, dropping her shirt's fabric on the sheets.

"I'm a Slytherin, it's a foundational facet of my personality to lie well." Draco eyed her, watching as she leaned back to stretch her spine once more. "You must quit lugging around that bag, Granger. It's fit for a giant."

"I can't simply quit carrying my books, Draco." Her voice snapped immediately in response, ire beginning to burn hotter. She only half paid attention to the argument, more upset with a trick button on her skirt.

Draco's shirt was dropped aside, his shoes left already on the ground. Hermione's breasts bounced just a bit each time she spoke or tried jostling the button free, and he felt content for the moment to lean back on his palms and watch.

"You'll soon be a hunchback if you keep this up. I can promise it will be less than arousing if you're bent in the torso next time we meet." Draco scrunched his nose at the mere thought, finding it wholly distasteful.

"I will not be a bloody hunchback. I'm just busy, and being busy means I have need of multiple books." She paused to let out a groan of aggravation, entirely fixated on the button pinched between her fingers. "It seems as though things might slow down just slightly this week however, if I get lucky enough."

The words passed her lips as though through a vice. Cheeks pinking with rising annoyance, Hermione surveyed the rogue button at her waist. She'd put the skirt on _this morning_. Certainly she could take it off now? It was just _ridiculous_. Brightest witch of her age, reduced to a quaking ball of rage over a tiny button; one she'd been using for months with absolutely no fault.

"Are you a witch or not? Just levitate the bag, or shrink the books, or summon them as you need them."

"What is it you expect from me then, to have a books fly in and out of the tower all day just for some moderate convenience? I'm sure Snape will be truly thrilled. Giving a page number and being nearly slapped with a book. I can't wait for _that_ look. I'm sure he'll reach new heights of rage." Hermione huffed, feeling herself rile even further.

Fingers gave a raging tug at the button, responding in disbelief that the blasted thing had yet to unknot itself. If she didn't get this bloody skirt off soon, she might lose her mind.

"I wasn't aware you were so desperate to have me, reduced to tearing off our clothes now?" Draco laughed, amused at her efforts.

Hermione's head whipped up, her eyes laying fire upon him. "You absolute _prat._ Bloody button won't come out, blasted thing. Can you not just keep quiet while I manage this?"

"You're clearly getting nowhere." Draco pushed up from his hands, leaning forward into her. His face nearly rested on her chest as he leaned down to examine the offensive knot.

The scent of peaches hit him immediately. He had failed to notice until now though, how much he associated that scent with her. Surely it was some girly body wash she used, but he'd turn his own wand on himself before revealing he'd noticed.

"If I can't fix it, you surely can't." Hermione felt a quick tug at the fabric. "Don't just rip it, you miscreant! Had I wanted a ripped skirt, I'd have done it myself minutes ago." Her voice snapped in the air, crackling with spite.

Draco huffed. "You can stop fearing for the life of a bloody button, I fixed it." Straightening his back, Draco stayed close. Pink scattered across her cheeks, something Draco was familiar with already. Her lips were taut, and he could sense the same strain holding her entire body coiled. Centimeters of distance was all that separated them, but Draco felt her skin all the same.

"You're bloody despicable." The whisper escaped from her mouth, vindictive and passionate. Hermione's eyes glanced down to his lips for just a moment, but they both took note.

"I don't-"

Draco's words were caught by Hermione's lips molding hot against his own. She leaned into him, pressing their chests together. The air crackled around them, growing warmer.

A small whine escaped Hermione when she felt Draco's hand skate up the side of her bare thigh. His skin felt rough against hers as she tracked the teasingly slow movement. Hermione nipped lightly at his mouth, teasing his soft lips against own.

As she focused on the hand nearing her arse, every thought in her mind seemed to melt away. Nothing was as important as savoring every sinful moment. Draco's hand flexed under her, lifting her quickly onto his lap.

Draco's deep groan resonated against her chest. She pressed herself down against him in every place they touched, wanting to take all she could. In return, he palmed her arse, holding them together with rising pressure. His other hand followed her spine until it reached her neck. Cupping her head, kept her against him.

"Come on," Hermione groaned. Pushing against the hand at her head, she leaned back into the bed. "Down," she whispered, unwilling to separate their lips.

Draco followed, shifting to lean down upon her. His lips created their own path, nipping over her chest as his fingers finished removing her skirt.

All of Hermione's thoughts were on him, what he was doing to her. She leaned back, holding her eyes closed. Just being near him, touching him, it was enough to calm the constant buzzing of her conscience. The silence in her mind was a pleasure of its own. Never was she so singularly focused than with him. Her mind was so often jumping from one thought to another, unable to find solid ground. Only in this escape with Draco was she able to finally get hold for just a moment.

"Happy to see me, then?" Draco bragged, that smug grin overtaking his face.

Hermione scrunched her nose, opening her eyes to glance down at him. "Could you keep quiet? You do that a lot better when you're not trying to be witty." The words sliced the air, killing her mood in seconds.

"You're a lot better when you remember I don't have to be doing this at all." Draco snapped, his mouth pressing the words against her breast.

"I don't remember begging to see you this evening."

Eyes closed once more, Hermione tried to forget whose thighs were trapping hers. One of her hands raised, toying and stroking the soft hair that fell over his face, pulling when he did - _that._ He was the ocean crashing down on her, suffocating her but letting her breathe all in the same. Warm and salty and heavy. With a new mark now certainly darkening on her breast, she waited as Draco's lips trailed back up to her own.

She whined into his mouth the moment their lips met. She told herself it was to egg him on. They both knew it wasn't.

Half an hour later, Hermione dropped her flushed forehead to rest against Draco's neck. She sat straddling him, her limbs loose. Feeling this way after was nearly as euphoric as the climax itself. She'd craved this absolute release, the exhale after too many long days of inhale. Her mind was clear. Thoughts had vanished, this was the closest she could ever get to fully escaping her own consciousness.

The moment stretched on longer than Hermione could keep track of. Eventually she could feel peaceful rhythm of Draco's breaths below her.

The words slipped from her lips without thought, the most natural response her body had. Casually. Normally.

"Why does Pansy think Theo did it?"

Draco's sigh came with force, obviously unwilling to face reality once more.

"What happened to the wizard who nearly shouted about it in the corridor the other night?" Hermione lifted her body up, twisting to lay even beside him.

"I do not _shout,_ I'll have you know."

Hermione stifled a laugh at the twitch in Draco's nose. He'd nearly lifted his face right there off the bed, _so_ excited to be such a bloody prat.

"What - you bloody _did_ shout, Draco! How do you think Theo found us?"

"Theo found us because he's a horrible person, and therefore crafty. It's just a natural trait of his kind. The height of my voice had nothing to do with it." Draco's voice sped just a little bit with the force of his indignation. Him - _shouting._ He would never.

"A horrible person? That Slytherin loyalty must be on its last leg." Hermione's own voice _might_ have grown snooty, but she was more than sure it hadn't.

"Theo will gain my loyalty when he shares his own. My allegiance is less than blind."

Hermione paused. This was clearly going nowhere, and she would tire of talking in circles soon. "So, _why_ does Pansy think Theo killed Blaise?"

Draco was quiet for a moment, and Hermione could sense his steady breathing beside her. "She thinks Theo and Crabbe somehow did it together. It was a collection of things, she mentioned Theo asked her to cover up the fight."

Hermione thought back to her adventures eavesdropping in the Slytherin dungeons. Pansy had mentioned seeking out someone from the _HFP_ to take care of it. "It doesn't look good to row with a missing person."

"Pansy wouldn't come out and say it, but she thought so too. Theo's been acting too guilty for someone with nothing to hide."

"What else did she say he's doing?" Hermione turned on her side, eager for any details Draco could provide.

Draco readjusted as well, moving up to lean against the headboard.

"Pansy said Blaise had been fighting with Crabbe and Theo for weeks, that he'd been acting very odd." He paused to sigh, chewing on his own thoughts. "If she has any idea of what they were really fighting about though, she's not going to tell."

"Is it that she wants to protect him? Maybe she knows that would be proof that Theo did it, then she couldn't keep it hidden anymore." Hermione theorized, brows furrowed while her vision focused on the draperies of Draco's bed.

"No." Draco shook his head, thinking of the dejected look on Pansy's face. "She was too upset about Blaise, she didn't want to admit it was even possible that Theo was involved."

"But she knew they were fighting, and Theo wanted to cover it up?"

"Pansy knew something was off, but she didn't have anything to prove it. Blaise was like a brother to her, she couldn't grasp the idea of someone hurting him. She said Theo and Crabbe kept repeating something. That something was going to happen eventually." Draco shook his head, his eyes fixed in the distance.

Hermione thought back to what Pansy had said. She had definitely mentioned the two boys being distant and odd about the whole situation. "Would they be so blatant to say that if they really," Hermione paused, " _murdered_ him? Why say anything at all, when things like that just rouse suspicion?" Hermione had trouble imagining being so blatant about her wrongdoings. There was a real difference between expressing remorse and arrogance.

Draco glanced at Hermione, turning over her words in his mind. "They didn't anticipate their words would be scrutinized. Theo said this in confidence to his long term girlfriend, with absolutely no intention for her to share this information."

Hermione thought about this as well, wondering how close Draco and Pansy must be for her to break that bond of loyalty. Especially since Draco was willing to break that bond as well. Her eyes pulled upwards though once she realized Draco was scrutinizing her.

"And I don't intend for this to extend past you, either. You can expect serious consequences if I hear Weasel walking the halls muttering about Theo."

A resounding huff jumped from Hermione's lips. " _Consequences?_ Maybe you've been suffering under some incorrect delusions about this situation, Draco. You are nowhere near a position to provide me penalties. If anything, we're equals." She really did stick up her nose this time, hoping enough bravado would get Draco to back down.

Draco gave his perfected snort of derision. "Equals? I distinctly have the upper hand here. I'm the one who's providing all this Slytherin insight. I should be asking much more than you just keeping your lips sealed." He glanced down at those lips only for a moment, before bringing his haughty gaze back to her own.

Hermione knew he'd provided little that she hadn't already overheard that evening, but he needn't know that. Had she been the one asking the questions - Pansy would never have been so forthcoming.

"I have a picture of Blaise and Snape meeting in the middle of the night a few days before he disappeared. I have reason to believe this was connected to another meeting that evening with Dumbledore." Hermione couldn't have stopped the words flowing from her lips if she'd _silencio_ 'd herself. She'd been able to catch the word _aurors_ before it slipped, but no part of the picture was ever meant to become knowledge of Draco's.

Draco's eyes snapped to hers, his eyebrows raised in expectation. "Well? Let's see it, then."

"I don't have it on me!" Hermione shook her head, brows furrowed taken back at the assumption. "Do you think that's something I just traverse the castle with?"

"Because leaving it in Gryffindor tower unguarded is that much safer." He snorted. It was horrible. "What makes you think Dumbledore has anything to do with it? Pansy told me Blaise had been having extra tutoring with Snape for weeks. A Slytherin meeting with his head of house for tutoring one evening after class isn't groundbreaking news, Granger." His eyes thinned skeptically.

"Well, I can't prove it exactly, but I have reason to believe somehow Dumbledore was connected."

"Can't prove it, or won't? If you have something to share, now's the time. I didn't divulge the secrets of my housemate with the expectation that you'd fail to do the same."

"I can't." Hermione's words were flat. "Harry saw a meeting that evening very close to when I believe that picture was taken. And I believe him."

Draco thought on this for a moment, and the room's silence held their attention. "I have little faith in the secondhand memories of Potter, especially in the dealings of Slytherins and professors and secret conspiracies. Until you can come up with something substantial, then I have no reason to believe that picture is of anything but a Potions tutoring session."

"If you're so sure that everything Snape does is above board, then why don't you ask him to confirm it?" Hermione's head tilted to the side, eyes boring into Draco's own.

"Are you going _mad,_ witch? I certainly will not take up questions about his whereabouts and meetings with my head of house. Godric knows why you Gryffindors are so comfortable walking all over Dumbledore as you do."

" _We do not walk all over Dumbledore."_ Her voice steeled, trying to reign in her rising ire.

Draco snorted, _of course_ , in that snooty way he always does. "That's certainly-"

"Malfoy. Back to the point." The command was punctuated with a deep breath by Hermione. They were both still completely naked, and she noticed his eyes immediately stray to her expanding chest. When she spoke again, it was while rummaging for her bra at the bed's foot.

"Let's _discuss,_ " she stressed, "that weird meeting with Theo. I was afraid he'd pull his wand right there in the hall."

He pinched his shoulders upwards and sighed, seemingly in exasperation that Hermione wouldn't let him keep fighting.

"That certainly was an enlightening conversation, hostile or not. Everything he did felt planned, like he was out looking for one of us that evening." Draco mused.

"I can only imagine it was you? I've never spoken with him in my life before then."

"If he was looking for me, then he spent quite a bit of time taunting you."

"Taunting me?" Hermione mused, pausing for a moment to relive the exchange. "You're right. That whole thing about me being Blaise's girlfriend was just-" Hearing a noise outside the curtain, Hermione immediately stopped speaking.

The two froze, listening to the dorm door swing open and shut. Heavy feet thumped against the dungeon floors. From the entry to a nearby bed, the feet continued to trod lazily.

Draco had followed the sound with his eyes as though he could see beyond the curtain, but now returned his gaze to Hermione. "It was odd, and it makes me wonder about what Blaise was getting up to before he disappeared."

"What do you mean?" Hermione's voice was quieter now. Try as she might, it was difficult to fully trust her secrets to whatever silencing charm Draco had placed.

"This witch was supposedly a big enough issue for Theo and the others to so blatantly nose in his business, but Theo was willing to believe that Blaise was seeing you on the side."

"Did he truly believe that though? I'm not sure we even convinced him that nothing was going on. We weren't being quiet that evening, and he easily could have overheard anything and come to his own conclusions."

"It's possible that he didn't overhear specifically what was said." Draco muttered, clearly disbelieving it himself.

"If you were him, what would you do? If he knows what's going on, he's going to find some way to manipulate it in his favor." Hermione glanced around, startled by the sounds of shuffling. It was disconcerting. It made her skin hum. It was all too possible that the boy she currently spoke about was just standing mere meters away from her.

"What exactly were we saying? Just planning when to meet?"

Hermione tried to think back. "I can't recall exactly. We definitely mentioned picking a time to meet, and you told me that Pansy suspected him."

"Well." Draco paused, parsing out possible plans. "If I _did_ have something to do with Blaise's disappearance, then I'd find some way to shut up Pansy, and find out exactly what we know. Given my penchant for the macabre, I might even copy whatever I did to Blaise to keep us quiet."

Hermione dropped her head, laying it flat against her palm. "And if you didn't?"

"I'd make us think I did. Find some way to turn it around, likely."

"What do you mean?"

"I would turn it around so we definitely thought I hurt Blaise. I'd make you fear me. Enough to stay away, but not enough to run and tattle to Dumbledore."

Hermione's spine gave an icy shiver at hearing Draco speak that way.

A book thud to the ground, and the resounding slam made Hermione nearly squeal. Usually she could get past the mundane sounds outside of Draco's curtains, but not right now. Behind the drapes, she kept picturing a leering Theo listening in on their conversation, planning. It was a concerning sight, as unreal as it hopefully was.

"Well, what if he knew we were meeting like this?"

Draco shook his head. "The more I think about it, the more I think he believed your lie. He's no fool. If he knew, he'd be sure to plaster it everywhere."

"To cover up his own behavior!" The thought clicked into place, and Hermione was awash with relief.

"It's been almost a week since that evening, including a _Free Press_ cycle, and nothing has happened. Theo wanted Pansy to suppress any stories of him and Blaise quarrelling, and this would be the perfect way for him to do it."

"He'd be passing up a golden opportunity! Yes! You're right!" The words slipped out quietly in joy, a smile spread across her lips. When she realized, she regretted it. Hermione had been so caught up in her own relief that Theo hadn't discovered them, and her darkest secret wasn't on the edge of reveal, that she'd momentarily lost control of her own tongue.

Draco's smug demeanor was palpable, and only made Hermione's frown deepen.

His lips began to part, and there was clearly a smug response just dancing on the tip of his tongue. Hermione quickly spoke again, having absolutely no interest in hearing his response.

"Either way, whether Theo heard us or not, there's no need to tempt fate twice. We need to be careful when and where we discuss, _this."_ Her mouth set in a tight, thin line.

A brow lifted on Draco's face. "Oh? Just to be clear, then. Public discussion is off the table, but public fucking is against the wall?"

"Draco!" Hermione whispered, scandalized.

Hermione was annoyed at how amusing Draco seemed to find her reddening cheeks. Sometimes, a witch just needs a break!

Wanting to call him out as well, Hermione's mind flew back to his _plan_ that Pansy had mentioned. Hermione had been naïve to be surprised that Draco was hiding things. For some reason, seeing the mark on his arm had felt like the ultimate exposure. They both could see the stark black against his skin, clear as day. It was aggressive - its presence expanding beyond his arm. What could be a worse secret than that?

Hermione's skin tingled with a sudden cold. Should she fear the boy beside her? Anything worse than the mark seemed unthinkable – unreachable.

Draco's face was still spread with the fall of a smile. Hermione glanced at him, watching his face return from joy. She wanted to know about this secretive plan, but delving into a fight right then was a certain return to exhaustion. Hermione made a mental note to bring it up later.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Hello! Thank you to everyone who returned after my extended break. I'm so excited to watch as Hermione continues on this journey, and am looking forward to share it with you! Your comments, thoughts, and even just reading are always appreciated.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Tuesday October 22, 1996**

Ronald Bilius Weasley was part troll. Hermione was sure of it.

"This is too much work to get done on top of quidditch practice. Harry's been scheduling them over the place lately. Can't say they were any different before though. Not Harry's fault. Too much-"

Tuesday evening found them in their almost empty common room. Hermione tried in vain to study while his mouth endlessly let words escape. He was _incorrigible._ When not directly facing the issue, Hermione might have bragged that her years of ignoring Ron's non-stop voice had given her tolerance. Now, she knew that was clearly false.

"Weird having Ginny on the team again. Don't want to admit it, but she's not a terrible chaser. Not sure how I feel about playing side by side with my little sister. She's so-"

The Potions textbook in front of her was useless - she wouldn't be able to get any further work done until she returned to the library tomorrow. Upsetting, but unchangeable. Hermione's eyes shot Ron a frosty glance.

"This next practice is going to be great, the team's finally coming together. It's tough to find that groove at first, but we're really working now. Harry says-"

Hermione wanted to drown him out. This was one-sided conversation, and she had no interest in forcing her way in or listening any longer.

"The Slytherin game is coming up so soon. Urquhart's had the pitch booked twice a week for a month! That game is gonna be bloody _rough._ I'm sure Harry's been-"

Had they not been waiting for Harry to return, Hermione would have been spending this time until her patrols in the library – _working._ That was sadly not an option. Harry was likely on his way back from Dumbledore's office by now. Tonight had been Harry's second meeting with Dumbledore, and all three of them were anxious to find out the evening's agenda.

Hermione began fretting that she may not have much time to speak if Harry didn't return soon, as she was scheduled for patrols this evening.

The portrait swung open. Harry stepped through, immediately glancing around the room to find them.

"I just saw Tom Riddle." Harry's eyes were wide. The voice that passed from his lips was heavy, as though his mind still hadn't left the meeting.

Hermione jumped, her blood immediately pumping faster through her veins. Ron whipped up from the common room floor, his eyes darting around as though Riddle would be a few steps behind.

"Where-"

"In a pensieve!" Harry's voice was whispered, but quick. Hermione's fight or flight response was running clear across her face, any lingering irritation long forgotten.

The trio spent the next twenty minutes analyzing everything Harry had experienced earlier in the evening. _What does this mean?_ Ron asked. Best guesses were tossed around, hopeful insights. Few conclusions were decided.

"Dumbledore brought up occlumency again." Harry glanced around the common room, checking once more for any nosy underclassmen. His search returned nothing, as the space was close to empty. Only trilling snores faded through the room from where Dean Thomas had fallen asleep.

"How does he want you to do that? Certainly not with _Snape_ again." Hermione whispered, aghast at the thought of Harry having to endure that torture again.

"Of course he does, unless he's willing to teach you?" Ron spoke, his face absent of hope.

Harry snickered. "As if."

"What did Dumbledore say about occlumency then?"

"He reminded me that it would be essential soon, and it's in my best interest to learn quickly. For us all to learn, actually. He chose not to specify the how or when, I'm guessing we'll have to figure that out."

"How helpful," Ron deadpanned. "Are you sure you weren't talking with a brick wall this evening? Sometimes with these stories, I can't tell the difference myself."

Hermione sighed, it was true. Harry had a similar, if even less amused, reaction.

Harry looked affronted, as though he now needed to salvage the headmaster's image.

"Dumbledore _did_ mention that a couple of students are already skilled in occlumency, though." Faced with the expectant looks of his friends, Harry continued. "He didn't say who, more like he was letting me know it's possible. That someone else has done it before." Harry's shoulders bounced. His face screamed _unconvinced._

Hermione jumped, checking the time. "I need to go. Patrols." She began gathering her nearby books and parchment. "Let me know if you come up with anything else. It certainly wouldn't hurt to know who those students are." Hermione had a solid guess at who in the castle might be skilled in occlumency but had no intention of jumping into that discussion at this moment. If there was one thing she wasn't in the mood for, it was another one of Harry's lectures on why Draco Malfoy was the devil incarnate.

Especially since he wasn't half wrong.

"Time to disappear again? Off into the night?" Ron's voice lifted but remained far from joyful.

"What - I'm off to walk my patrols, if that's what you're saying."

"I was talking about how weird you've been lately – running around, being secretive." Ron's face scrunched, his mouth puckered into a grimace.

Hermione let out a quick breath, wishing to not have this conversation once again. "I'm incredibly _busy,_ Ronald. Being busy is not the same as being secretive."

"It bloody well is!" Ron paused to glance at Dean, checking for the continued snores. "This is like third year all over again-"

"How? Me being busy with coursework, preparing for exams?" Hermione shoved the bag of books further up the curve of her shoulder.

"You're hiding something! Third year you hid the time turner. What is it now?"

Hermione flinched. Her mind had immediately returned to her most sordid secret. Neither of the boys in front of her seemed to know – _thank Merlin._ Just the thought made her skin warm and her limbs heavy. It was fear, no doubt. Hermione couldn't tell for sure if either of them had noticed her recoil, so she slogged on.

"I am not hiding anything. You know, maybe if you spent more time in the library preparing for you O.W.L.s, you wouldn't find me so mysterious."

"Don't let me interrupt you and whoever you're snogging with in the library, then." Ron spat the words halfheartedly, his eyes already glancing in Harry's direction for support.

Harry's eyes got just slightly wider as he found both Ron and Hermione looking for his commentary.

"You don't have to hide McLaggen from us. I think we'll be able to handle this _shocking_ news." Ron spat, filling the space of Harry's silence.

Hermione scoffed. It was very Malfoy-esque, and disturbing.

"You can take a breath, Ronald. I certainly am not dating McLaggen. And even-"

"I saw you carrying on in the hall the other day! No need to hide now!"

"Ron-" Harry tried.

"And _even_ if I was, that would be none of your ruddy business! I can come and go as I please. I have no duty to check with you, to obtain your permission just to go about my business." Hermione's cheeks warmed. Somehow she was speaking to herself, defending her recent indiscretions. She might as well have been holding up a mirror to finish this conversation.

"Herm-" Harry tried again, stepping between them.

Ron's skin bloomed with heat. "I'm just asking you to stop hiding from us, sneaking around like this."

" _Ronald."_ Hermione snapped, staring at him with burning ire.

"Did we not just five minutes ago discuss the threat of Voldemort against our _lives?_ We're bloody luck it hasn't happened already and shouting in the common room won't get us any closer to the answers." Harry's voice had risen as well, his hands raised in the air. He looked nearly frantic, his head tossing back and forth between the two quarreling friends.

"Now you'll have to excuse me. I'm late for my rounds."

Ronald Bilius Weasley, a troll.

* * *

 **Wednesday, October 23, 1996**

Ron had been wrong.

Well, about Cormac McLaggen at least.

Cormac had made his intentions crystal clear on multiple occasions already this term. Hermione couldn't be surprised that Ron had caught a glimpse of Cormac doing exactly that at some point. The idea that she would be mutually carrying on with him though, that was surprising. Hermione had shot him down each time, each more impossible to mistake than the last.

Ron must have been shooting in the dark, hoping Hermione would give up her secrets at the first accusation. Unlikely.

"Ah! The beautiful bookworm escapes the library once again."

Hermione was met with the sound of Cormac McLaggen's voice. He had impeccable timing. Hermione had been mentally reviewing the previous lesson's lecture while walking toward Slughorn's Potions class, but that train of thought was now long gone. Cormac began strolling alongside her in the hall, making use of the overwhelming height difference.

"Cormac."

He had last cornered Hermione slightly over a week ago, bluntly offering to show her some pretty tapestry on the sixth floor. Hermione in return had re-established a safe meter distance between them before explaining that her schedule would make that trip impossible.

"Opportunities like this are rare. What brings you into the light of day, this afternoon?" His cocky grin was growing with each word, white teeth aggressively bright in the dungeon's shadows.

Hermione glanced around, pausing outside Slughorn's classroom. "I don't live in the library, Cormac. Can I help you with something?" She shrugged, pretending as though she didn't know perfectly well where this was going.

Not far away, and coming closer, Draco caught Hermione's glance. Instinctively, she hoped that he'd interrupt Cormac's onslaught of supposed _charm._ This was, of course, not going to happen. Draco, git that he was, danced his eyes back and forth between Cormac and Hermione.

Then – Hermione was gritting her teeth to see, Draco _laughed_. As though there was any humor in this! Despicable.

"I love the hospitality, Granger." Cormac whispered her name like a secret. She disliked this artistic interpretation. "How about I help you escape again this weekend, maybe we head off to Hogsmeade together?"

Cormac had leaned in now, pressing a palm into the wall above her head. Hermione found herself shrinking. Between Cormac and the wall, she had a definite favorite.

"So, what do you say?" He continued, smirking confidently from above her.

Hermione let out an uncomfortable, breathy laugh. Boys flirting so obviously with her was a relatively new experience, so her responses were still elementary. Her eyes darted in every direction except up to Cormac. Other students were passing by, giving intrigued glances at the sight of him hovering over her. Draco was still not far away, trying to hide his obvious interest in the scene.

"Well, I – Cormac." Hermione glanced around in desperation, wishing she didn't have to do this. Draco's snicker was audible, and he was doing a much worse job at hiding his gaze now.

Thinking of her audience, Hermione lifted her chin, steeling her resolve. "I can't, Cormac." At this weak denial, she could see his mouth already forming some sly response. Words jumped from her lips, hoping to avoid another request. "I'm studying all weekend, and I'm behind on my reading in a couple classes."

Hermione couldn't help but sneak a glance over at her one wizard audience. Draco was readjusting his silver hair, assuring himself it was perfectly _so,_ coiffed just to his liking. He was also still snickering with glowing mirth.

"What about-"

"Sorry, Cormac." The words were rushed, yet they were the most forceful thing she said. Flat out telling him that she wasn't interested would be the best response, but for some reason Hermione couldn't seem to get the words out. What if she was rude, or he just wanted to be her friend? What if she was burning a bridge that would be worthwhile in her career? Too risky. Hermione wished he would just take the hint already!

She pretended to not hear his rebuttals, quickly turning on her toes and entering the classroom.

Hermione's anticipation of later that day suddenly ebbed. Draco had sent a note this morning that he would have his dorm to himself for a couple hours before dinner. Given Hermione's recent chilly interactions with Ron and Harry, time with Draco seemed like the perfect distraction.

Now that she and Cormac had put on such a riveting show for him, Hermione suspected that this evening wouldn't be as relaxing as planned.

* * *

Draco was in a cheery mood that evening, seemingly bursting with delight at the sight of Hermione removing her disillusionment charm. The malicious smirk on his face was almost nearing a smile for once.

"I'm surprised you were able to squeeze me in, given how busy you are." Draco dropped his chin, giving her a knowingly naughty look.

Hermione raised her brows in expectation. "You've had, what, five hours now, and that's the best you could come up with?"

"You'll have to excuse me. Is Cormac raising the bar now for witty repartee?" The question came with the clear implication that he already knew the answer.

"Repartee, hmm?" Hermione let her eyes glaze over the room, hoping to give the impression of careless indifference.

"Process of elimination, yes." Draco nodded, visibly savoring the contempt radiating off her. "I can be sure it's not Potty. No need to mention the Weasel, of course – but diligence requires it, you see. So, unless you'd like to praise my _own_ wit for doing the job…" His voice trailed off with a teasing lilt.

Hermione crossed her arms, stepping aside to meander the room. "Oh no, I'm sure you can do that well enough on your own." She tried to let the words out lightly, not rising to his bait.

Another few more pointedly teasing comments were lobbed before Hermione decided she was tiring with this. "Are you quite done?" Her brows raised again from where she stood next to his bed.

Though his eyes had followed her path around the room, Draco chose not to move. Fingers spinning his wand, he leaned passively against the door.

"What had you so tongue-tied this afternoon, then? I can't remember a time you've ever been so submissive to the will of any wizard." Rather than jealous, Draco seemed curious, as though he genuinely couldn't make sense of her actions.

"I was not _submissive,_ bite your tongue!"

"Well," Draco huffed, furrowing his brow in amused astonishment. "What was it then? You have no problem taking me to task when the mood strikes – not to mention Potty or Weasel. Then Cormac laps his tongue over you in the hall, and nothing?" Studying her reaction, he took a step forward.

"Why do you care?" Hermione braced her shoulders back. Matching his movement, she took her own step forward. Two steps closer, they were still separated by most of the room.

"If someone's finally found the right combination of words to make you stop being so persnickety, I'll be the first in line to learn."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. For an argument with Draco, this was remarkably tame. Still though, she had no want to discuss this topic any further.

"Not being a prat tends to be effective."

"Ah, yes. When I see Cormac, I see the modern example of wizarding excellence." Draco's haughty sarcasm was thick. "So what is it, then? All that self-importance gets you hot and bothered?"

Hermione gave a heavy snort, taken aback by the disgusting thought. " _Ah,_ you've got me." A thick, fake smile plastered over her lips. "That's why I just _love_ listening to _you_ talk!"

This trading of quips went on for some time. Occasionally, points were punctuated with powerful steps forward. Hermione's defenses slowly raised, looking each time to deflect from her appeasement to Cormac. Nerves frayed, she was quickly growing tired of this circle.

Draco was nearly as calm, if not as amused, as he'd begun. "Stuck trying to find a way for him to understand? I'm sure small words will be easy enough."

"I don't want to be mean!" The words ripped from her lips with force. In just that split second, she held onto hope that he'd be satisfied, ending this ridiculous mind game.

"You – what? Have you lost the plot – forgotten entire chunks of your personality?"

Halfway through an eye roll, Hermione stopped at the realization of how childish it felt. "He's done nothing to be rude or make me purposely uncomfortable. I see no reason to be cruel."

"And cluing him in on the fact that he'll never shag you is cruel now?"

"When are you expecting your roommates to return? I'll be leaving for dinner soon."

" _Don't want to be mean,_ my arse. There's more to it."

Hermione chose not to answer. Instead, she began strolling around the room once more, glancing at the personal effects of each boy.

"Maybe you've got a thing for blonds. You don't honestly want to say no."

She continued meandering the stone floors, her lips staying tightly locked.

"No, that's not right. You just don't know how to turn him down." His voice was tinged with satisfaction. "Weasel's never come on that strong, and you have no _idea_ how to handle it."

Though she loathed to admit he was right, her throat betrayed her with an indignant scoff.

Draco gave a short laugh, heavy with amusement. "Little Granger has no idea how to turn someone down."

"Are these Blaise's things?" Hermione stepped toward the trunk, her interest piqued. The bed's sheets were tightly arranged, untouched. Unlike the other beds, where littered parchment and textbooks were laid haphazardly around, this one was tidy.

"Witch detective solves yet another mystery." Draco paused, watching her study the space. "It's like you've never seen this dorm before. Have you forgotten he lived here?"

"When will Theo and the other boys be back?" She tossed the words over her shoulder, bending down to fiddle with the lock.

"After dinner." Tone clipped, he continued, "what do you think you're doing?"

Hermione hummed to herself, trying a few locking spells on the stubborn latch. "Research, are you familiar?"

"What are you looking for? I doubt you'll find the latest copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ in there."

"How disappointing. Maybe if I did, you'd finally read it," she deadpanned. With a final flick of her wand, the latch cracked open under her touch.

Hermione heard Draco step closer behind her. "What are you expecting to find so helpful, then?" Skepticism dripped from his mouth, lacing his speech.

"Had I known that, do you think I would be just _now_ checking?"

Under her palms, the wood felt like a reflection of her own stuffed trunk now resting in the tower. The outside was smooth and cold, intricately designed to make each line of grain artistic. In contrast, the inside was disturbingly hollow. Given the lack of belongings covering Blaise's space, Hermione had somewhat assumed that his trunk must have been bulging.

Now holding the lid open, she looked inside to see the kit barely half full.

"Does he always pack so light?" Hermione glanced back to Draco.

In return, he gave a noncommittal shrug, leaning over to peek inside. "I would assume. Galleons, wand, clothes, parchment, books. Anything else he needs could be bought."

Hermione pursed her lips, turning back to the task at hand. She lit the tip of her wand, hoping to stave off some of the dungeon's permanent shadow. A charcoal sweater with green trim laid to the side, messily folded. Stacked books and rolls of parchment littered the space. Glinting against the light, Hermione could see a few loose sickles as well.

"It may be more important to see what's not here, rather than what is." She paused to glance over at Theo's bed, assuring herself that he was gone. "If Blaise's disappearance actually is foul play, then we aren't the first ones to open this."

Draco grimaced.

Soon after Hermione began pulling out the pieces of parchment, Draco joined her. One by one, they sat in silence and unrolled them. Likely, Hermione thought, they would find nothing. Almost everything she'd read thus far was coursework or other mundane writings. Thinking this, she reached out to grab the next sheet from the trunk.

"Blaise and his girlfriend were –"

Hermione jumped at Draco's voice, having grown comfortable in the silence. Impatiently, she watched as he scanned the letter.

"He was really serious about this witch." Hair filtering across his forehead, Draco leaned over to study the parchment. Hermione watched, waiting for more analysis. Halfheartedly, she read over the sheet in her hands before moving to the next.

"After he made such a big fuss with Theo over her, I assumed she was worth more than just keeping him warm."

Draco hummed placatingly in response, still enraptured by the writing. Hermione let this continue for four more scrolls, glancing at him intermittently, before her patience ran thin.

"Well, what does it say?" She reached forward, pulling the parchment from his (thankfully) loose grip.

"Romantic drivel." Draco cleared his throat quickly and pulled out another rolled parchment. "It's just Blaise waxing poetic ad nauseum."

Hermione studied the words, looking for anything worthwhile. "Any clues on the mystery witch?"

 _I should be taking notes as Flitwick drones in front of me, but I can only focus on you. I'm always thinking of you, waiting to be with you. Seeing you again is coming home. You are my own personal fête des lumières._

Draco looked up from his next parchment, glancing at Hermione's focused brow. "Look at the bottom, she wrote a couple responses. Probably a note they passed back and forth."

 _Summer is too long without you. I count the minutes until we're set to meet again. I won't apologize for ruining your focus, for mine is always stuck on you. I would bore to death without your quick tongue._

Hermione couldn't help but flush at the parchment. It felt intrusive to read such intimate, smitten thoughts. No boy had ever written to her with such emotion. Neither had she ever felt that way about a boy. Imagining that state of mind, being so overflowing with affection and adoration, was challenging for her. She felt like a voyeur, peeking into the innermost thoughts of her peers, holding a critical eye to their private declarations.

She studied the writing, trying to glean further meaning from each swipe of a quill. Absently, she listened to the repetitive noise of Draco examining the remaining rolls. After some time, when the noise stopped, Hermione glanced up to see him studying another parchment.

"This one's a letter from the girlfriend. Nothing obvious, but it's signed _Honeysuckle_. Any guesses?"

" _Honeysuckle,_ " Hermione echoed, rolling the name over her tongue. She couldn't picture Blaise smitten at all, much less crafting sweet terms of endearment. "Maybe she's a blonde." Shrugging her shoulders in confusion, Hermione struggled to find any logical meaning.

"Are there any girls with the initials H.S.?" Draco's eyes stayed locked on the parchment.

"Not in our year, I'm not sure about above or below."

They continued theorizing possible meanings as Hermione checked the last few rolls. All meaningless. Leaning over the trunk, she stared at the remaining items. Other than the few pieces of clothes, only a few scattered quills, textbooks, and rogue sickles were left.

"Where do you keep your galleons, when you leave for class?"

"That desperate, are we?" Draco dropped the parchment to his lap, shooting Hermione his best condescending look.

"Would you prefer I walked the meter to your trunk and found out on my own?"

"Best of luck, some of us don't take well to invasions of privacy."

"There's not one galleon in this trunk. You don't find that surprising?"

"So foul play – as you say. Someone in the castle risks an Azkaban sentence to make a prominent-"

"prominent?"

"- _prominent_ student disappear. Then, after they've seemingly gotten away with it, they risk it all again for petty theft?" Draco's tone made clear how ludicrous he found the idea.

At hearing his rationale, Hermione could see his point. Hogwarts was a fortress, and sneaking unaided into the Slytherin dorms would be a difficult task. _That is, if you don't live in those dorms already,_ Hermione mentally amended.

"I don't know." Hermione sighed, rubbing a palm over her face. "I'm saying it's suspicious that a notoriously wealthy student has no money in their trunk. I'd much earlier assume thievery than Blaise being ham-fisted about his galleons."

Draco looked over into the trunk as well. "I see no sign of a wand either, but that's no surprise." His lips were pressed thin. Rummaging through the effects of his missing roommate was bringing up thoughts he'd rather not explore. Namely, the chance that Hermione would someday be looking for the same clues in his belongings.

Retrieving his pocket watch, Draco glanced at the time. After being so caught up in rifling Blaise's trunk, she could only guess at how much time had passed.

"Dinner's just started downstairs. You'll be running off then, to help Potty and Weasel handle the cutlery?"

Hermione's chest tightened. Confessing her feelings to Draco about the recent spat with Ron and Harry was low on her _to do_ list. Surprisingly though, eating at the Great Hall with the boys felt lower on that list right now. It couldn't hurt to wait until Gryffindor table would be full, she decided. Much less tense silence that way.

"I'm sure they can manage." Any effort on Hermione's part to make her response sound casual was wasted. Her tense voice did a poor job hiding her feelings.

Draco narrowed his eyes, looking into hers. "Well, well. Trouble in Gryffindor tower?"

Hermione stared back into his eyes, taking measured breaths. "That's one way to put it."

"Have your little friends discovered your proclivity for Slytherins?"

She narrowed her eyes and scoffed – a sound she initially thought came from Draco. "That's hardly what I'd call it." At the impending movement of his lips, Hermione spoke up again. "And no. They just know I've been unaccounted for lately. That happens when you have friends. They get worried about you."

Draco didn't rise to the taunt, only giving a short laugh at her weak distraction. "Unless you really are sleeping with my housemates, I don't see why they'd be upset. We're less than attached at the hip."

Hermione didn't see why Draco would have any intention of listening, but she also couldn't see any reasonable way this could cause trouble. Studying the structure of his face, she deliberated for a moment. His lips stretched into a taunting smirk, something close to amusement, but nothing malicious. Anyways, she couldn't discuss this with anyone else. Only Draco and Theo knew she was digging into Blaise's disappearance.

"Harry and Ron don't know I've been looking into Theo and Blaise."

"I thought lions were pack animals."

"I just have no want to explain myself, or start a fight."

"Yet, you see no break in logic between that and your current predicament?"

"No. I don't." Hermione raised her nose _a little_ this time, she'll admit. "There's a difference in being concerned and stalking me around the castle."

"Knowing Potter's flair for the dramatic, I assume that's a thin line."

Hermione shrugged, not wanting to give away her fear of that exact possibility. Ron seems much more worried than Harry, but she knew the _Marauder's Map_ was never far from reach. Merlin help her if Harry got curious enough… In her mind's eye, Hermione immediately pictured her two gangly best friends squeezing themselves together under Harry's invisibility cloak. They wouldn't remember to silence their footsteps, or an arm would peek out, or maybe she'd hear Ron's cussing three steps behind her.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I was so glad to hear some of your thoughts last time, thank you so much for reading! I love that some people are picking up on some early hints as well! Any theories yet? Five weeks and Blaise is still MIA! Also, to save some people the effort of googling - fête des lumières means festival of lights.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Friday, October 25, 1996**

Only when she saw them for the first time, did Hermione realize she was surprised the Aurors hadn't shown up earlier.

Hermione couldn't honestly say she had a particularly _high_ view of the Ministry, so the sight of Aurors actually doing their job was almost unreal. Most interactions between the Ministry and Hogwarts that Hermione had experienced were focused on control. The idea of them providing protection was downright laughable.

Could this be a sign of the Ministry finally being reasonable – of the Minister finally admitting Voldemort's influence?

Hermione sighed, as she knew that thought put the cart before the horse. While, yes, the Ministry was here, they were also doing nothing. Of course, the caring and concerned Aurors asked plenty of clarifying questions and established timelines and gave troubled looks and spoke lowly with Dumbledore – but what good did that do? Five weeks had passed now with a student missing, two weeks since another was injured by a dark artifact.

Further, from what Hermione could gather, the Aurors were less than anxious about the happenings at Hogwarts. Students who spoke with them only reported perfunctory, basic questions. Hermione wanted to believe that this would lead to answers for Blaise and Katie. She truly did, but she was a realist.

Glancing around the Great Hall, Hermione spotted Draco eating in silence. With a sallow face and drooping eyes, he looked knackered, as though every drop of energy within him was spent chewing the toast in his hand. The edges of his face seemed more pointed than usual, like his skin was stretching to cover it all.

Hermione's hand dropped to hold the mug set in front of her. She couldn't help but feel some stirring of concern for Draco. Since taking up their extracurricular meetings this semester, her eyes were naturally drawn to him when they passed in the corridors or ate in the Great Hall. More than once now he'd seemed tired beyond measure. The first couple times, she reveled in seeing his mask of indifference so cracked, glimpsing some expression of humanity.

Now, she was struck by how odd this behavior was. In their years of schooling together, Hermione couldn't think of a single time she'd seen him so drained. Since she'd started taking notice, she'd seen this exhaustion multiple times now. Dark eyes, sallow skin, tight shoulders.

Draco didn't hold a candle to the bright exuberance around her.

Tuesday's spat seemed to be having no effect on Ron's appetite. Hermione was feeling frosty with Ron and Harry, but she still wished desperately to make Ron _please_ chew with his mouth closed.

After venting to Draco on Wednesday, Hermione had let go of most of her anger at the boys. She had no plans of apologizing right now, but confessing her annoyance to him had made it less important somehow, like silly teenage drama. Draco's quips about the boys might have helped as well, but she didn't want to admit that just yet.

It was overwhelming and intimidating to admit that maybe Hermione didn't hate Draco like she used to. By no means did she want to start being best mates, but the urge to slap him at every turn had waned dramatically. Their time together had become relaxing, like a break from real life. Thinking of their meetings was stressful and shameful, but having that release was worth it. They hadn't even had sex on Wednesday, but she'd walked away calmer, ready to continue on with her week. Draco Malfoy had become her unlikely confidant.

Shaking her head, she tried to stop that train of thought. It was too surreal to face right now, and she wasn't ready to analyze those implications.

Hermione was growing exceedingly tired of this terse silence at every meal. The scary thought of striking up conversation with Seamus was being debated when owls began flooding into the hall. Finally the post had come and Hermione could once again busy herself with whatever trash was being flaunted in the _Daily Prophet._

A thick stack was laid in front of Hermione, and she began sorting through the arrivals. The _Daily Prophet_ was there on top, as she'd expected. Next was a hefty letter from her parents, her name beautifully traced across the front in her mother's handwriting. Below that was a response from Garrick Woolwither, a deputy in the Ministry's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Hermione had recently written Woolwither to comment on an upcoming piece of Centaur legislation, and was immensely pleased to see she'd finally received a response. Below –

A small folded parchment note fell onto Hermione's stack of mail. Immediately recognizing the sender, Hermione felt her face go hot. Adrenaline pulsed in her blood, pumping faster at her ridiculous fear of being caught. Across the note's front was Hermione's name in his drawling script, and she foolishly wished to hide the parchment away.

 _What if Harry recognized his handwriting? What if Ron thinks it's a love note from her brain-dead suitor, McLaggen? What if the note began repeating its contents aloud in Draco's snooty voice?_

Quickly, she tried giving a cursory glance at her housemates to ensure the note hadn't attracted attention. Harry met her eyes with a questioning look, and Hermione immediately responded, the lie rolling off her tongue.

"McGonagall."

Ron, buried face first in his breakfast, failed to notice anything out of the ordinary.

Hermione felt safe enough to glance at the Slytherin table to chance a glimpse at the sender. Draco was absent from the Hall however, having left sometime since she noticed the lethargy in his eyes. She hoped he'd sent the note after leaving, and not at the Slytherin table. Wanting to allay any possible suspicion, she tucked his note inside her stack of mail for later, putting everything but her _Daily Prophet_ aside.

Soon, the hall began to buzz with excited chatter. Students were glancing at one another with wide eyes, whispering back and forth. It didn't take long for Hermione to realize what was going on. Nearly every other student had a _Hogwarts Free Press_ spread wide underneath their noses. Merlin knew what drivel they were printing this week. In Hermione's opinion, the only worthwhile service _HFP_ provided was a reminder of the upcoming weekend.

Eventually Hermione's self-control ran thin, and she peeked at the parchment clutched greedily in Harry's hands.

 _Aurors Appear, Where is Zabini?_

What a loaded question – one she had asked a number of times herself. If that _rubbish_ gossip rag had the answer before her, Hermione thought she just might pitch herself off the astronomy tower.

Reaching across her plate, Hermione grabbed Seamus's discarded copy laid upon the table. Stretching the parchment under her nose, Hermione scanned every printed word.

The piece focused heavily on the term's timeline, including a brief call back to their original piece _announcing_ (their word, not Hermione's) Zabini's disappearance. Compared to what she remembered of that nonsense article, Hermione was surprised to see this one's complete change in tone. The blind acceptance of Pansy's coverup was now gone.

Theo and Pansy featured prominently, with the anonymous author questioning their motives at every turn. The couple was speculated to know just exactly what happened to Blaise, given their behavior this term. Withheld sources commented brazenly on Theo's scuffles with Blaise and Pansy's cloying desperation to hide the truth. The breakfast row was finally discussed as well, argued as proof that Pansy tried to cover up Blaise's odd demeanor.

Every word seemed to dance around an actual accusation. They implied, but never flat out suggested what everyone was now thinking. _Did Theo and Pansy kill Blaise?_

Hermione was nearly happy to see that the article shared nothing she didn't already know. Some things, like Blaise's meeting with Snape and his secret girlfriend, hadn't reached the author it seemed. She wouldn't mind having a conversation with one of those secret sources, though.

Raising her head to glance at the Slytherin in question, Hermione shrunk back at what she saw. Theo had been looking at her already, shooting daggers with obvious ire.

Spine straightening, blood freezing, face flushing fear rooted in Hermione's chest.

She hated to admit it. She wanted the words banished from her mind. But Merlin be damned, _she was afraid!_

Theo made her skin crawl, her hair stand on end, her muscles tense. Even here, in the crowded Great Hall, full of smiling peers and joyous laughs and fond memories, she felt like prey. She felt alone. She felt trapped in her seat.

Harry was right next to her – she needed to say something. She needed to tell him and Ron what she'd gotten herself into. Hermione's gaze was locked on Theo's though, and she felt like she was too far gone. She'd dug herself a hole too deep to climb back out, to have a hand reach down and help her to safety. All that she could do was keep digging through, hoping she'd eventually reach the other side.

She tried steeling her features, masking the unholy fear within.

What could he do to her now? Surely nothing, she reminded herself. He was tables away, across the crowded hall, buzzing with students. Professors were lined up closer to her than he was. If there was anywhere she could be untouchable, would it not be here?

Hermione's gaze was still locked in Theo's, and soon her mind began to feel foggy. Every thought felt unfocused, like she didn't have control over them. The realization made her panic rise as she tried to figure out what he was doing. It must be Theo. He was controlling her mind somehow, she knew it.

Small flashes of memories passed in her mind, and she knew this must be what legilimency felt like. Short moments passed behind her eyes, one after another. As soon as she'd recognize one, the next would come flying forward.

Draco sneaking her into his dorm. Researching an essay with a Ravenclaw. Draco's fringe falling as he moaned above her. Her fighting with Ron. Helping a Hufflepuff girl with coursework. Following Pansy to the Black Lake. Chatting with a Ravenclaw girl in the corridor. Draco kissing her behind the third suit of armor. Exchanging pleasantries with Hannah Abbott. Analyzing a Dumbledore meeting with Harry. Drinking butterbeer in Hogsmeade. Discussing coursework with Padma. Draco biting her neck.

Eventually, Hermione wrenched her fearful eyes from his. She felt exhausted, terrified, drained. Her heart thumped in her chest, pounding in her ears.

Immediately she glanced around the room. She couldn't tell whether she was hoping someone had noticed or not. Other than a couple excitable first years, she didn't see that anyone had. Hermione wouldn't look up again, afraid of meeting Theo's eyes. She stared resolutely at her coffee as her mind raced.

* * *

Hermione spent the rest of her day worrying over what Theo had done – what he'd seen.

The first minute she could escape her classes, Hermione headed for the library. Her normal spot in the back would be open, she was sure. Looking around quickly to ensure the space was private enough, she immediately sent Draco a note.

 _We_ _need_ _to talk, immediately. Meet me in the library as soon as you can. Farthest table back, to the left. Behind the Dragon Legislation section._

Hermione began fidgeting the moment her note flew away. Her eyes keep flicking around the library, fearful that Theo would creep up again. This morning had been terrifying, and being secluded right now felt like asking for a repeat. Certainly if he wanted to attack her, this would be quite the opportune time!

Draco, _thank Merlin,_ appeared within minutes. She couldn't have been more appreciative that he'd understood the urgency of her note.

"Did you read the _Free Press_ this morning?" Her voice was whispered and rushed. Buzzing under her skin was the fear of being overheard, of having her thoughts ripped from her head again.

At the question, Draco's brows quirked, creases forming around his mouth. "Of course not, why would I?"

Hermione quickly pulled her gemino'd copy from her book bag, handing it to Draco. "Because everyone else in school has, including your housemates." She glanced around once more, her beating heart calming at Draco's presence. Hermione knew she couldn't fully count on Draco's aid in a fight, but she also knew Theo couldn't either.

Remembering the note she'd pocketed that morning, Hermione pulled it from her bag. While Draco continued to study the article, Hermione opened the parchment he'd sent her.

 _I think the girlfriend is either Megan Jones or Lisa Turpin. Will explain later. DM_

His signed initials struck Hermione, since she couldn't remember him ever tagging them before. She hadn't either, somewhat from fear of being caught. There were only so many HGs in Hogwarts, and she didn't want to explain any note of hers that was found in Draco's possession.

"What? Did you find another note?" Hermione paused, furrowing her brow as she thought. "Or, wait. Did Pansy know?"

"This got printed this morning? No wonder everyone's been giving Theo looks all day."

"Was he seeing both Megan and Lisa? Theo _did_ suggest he was seeing more than one girl, when he was taunting me that night."

"Theo can't be taking this well. Whoever wrote this stopped just short of accusing murder."

Hermione had been caught up in Draco's note for a moment, not fully hearing what he said in front of her. At the reminder of Theo's reaction, her mind returned to Draco.

"He's not, Draco. Something happened this morning, _he knows,_ about us _._ "

"Well how do you know that, what happened?"

"I can't –" she paused, swallowing her fear at the memory. "I can't be sure, Draco, but this morning. I only know what it's like from Harry's explanations, but –"

" _Hermione._ "

"I think Theo used legilimency on me. Right after I read the article, I saw him looking at me. He was so _angry,_ and it felt like I couldn't look away."

She could see the change as his face tensed, his breathing deepened. Draco seemed to find this thought just as upsetting as she did. Somehow, that made it worse. There was no comfort in his solidarity. Hermione almost wanted him to laugh it off as nothing, to tell her this was an overreaction – to tell her everything was fine.

"Was he," Draco paused, shaking his head nervously. "Did you see a memory or an image, without really thinking about it?" At Hermione's nod, he continued. "What did you see?"

This part was less clear in her mind than the image of Theo's eyes boring into her, but she had an idea of what he'd seen. "There were a few memories of you. There were other random ones around that, like me studying or just talking to other students. I think there was one of me fighting with Ron."

"What were we doing in those memories?" Draco's voice was low and quiet. They both already knew the answer.

" _That,"_ she whispered in confirmation.

They sat in silence, both lost in thought at the consequences. Though she wasn't wholly sure until Draco confirmed it, Hermione had been obsessing over the ramifications all day already. The silence gnawed at her. She needed a resolution, some kind of plan. Her feet wouldn't carry her out of this library until she had something else to think about.

"Draco, he was mad. I know we can't say for sure what happened to Blaise but – he." Hermione bit her lip, meeting his eyes. The words fought to stay trapped behind her lips. Hermione Granger was not one to back down, to shy from a fight. Admittance of weakness felt like acceptance of defeat. "I'm _scared_ of him."

Baring this truth made her skin feel raw and exposed. In long common room nights she'd whispered the words to Ron and Harry, fearing the impending war. The comfort of her best friends made her feel safe; she felt invincible with them at her side. With Draco though, the admission felt much less secure. Commiseration wasn't guaranteed. Hermione was treading on unsolid ground, venturing out and hoping he'd follow.

Draco's eyes analyzed Hermione's face for a moment, and she thought he might be deciding what to say.

"I think you should learn occlumency, at least the basics." Draco nodded to himself, either already sure or trying to convince himself of the idea. "Yes. What's done is done. We need to think about moving forward. Theo isn't the only one who might want to see those memories."

Somewhere in the back of Hermione's mind was Harry's voice screaming, _don't! Don't you dare tell him!_ Hermione agreed with Draco though, and she recognized a shift in the balance of their relationship. Teaching her occlumency, if that's what he meant, would be an investment. It would mean he planned to keep seeing her even under scrutiny.

"I want to learn. That was _horrible,_ and so violating. I can't stand the idea of it ever happening again, of someone slipping through my mind like that." Hermione shuddered at the memory, reliving her fear once more. She paused, her tongue heavy with the weight of her words. "Dumbledore thinks so too, he used the word _invaluable_ if I remember correctly." Her voice was small, and they both knew this small piece of information was breaking some unspoken rule.

Draco nodded again, eyes focused on the table. "Old coot hasn't totally lost his mind, then."

"Will you, then? Will you teach me?"

"I'd ask why you think I know, but that feels about ten steps behind." Eyes peeking up at her, Draco's face cracked a smile.

Hermione laughed a bit, appreciating the break in tension.

"I'll do it, but it'll take time, and patience. Let me figure out a time and place, but we'll start soon."

They slipped into silence for a moment, but Hermione's mind kept rambling. Questions cropped up from every direction, most without an answer.

"What do you suppose he was looking for? If he wanted to know about us, why wait until right then?"

Draco mulled over her words before responding, eyes narrowed in concentration. "Did he see anything else that important? When you're in someone's mind like that, you have some control to look for specific things. It's almost like steering a broom."

"Nothing I can think of. He saw me fighting with the boys, but anyone who looks at us can see that." Hermione shrugged, trying to piece together the memories. They'd gone by so quick that she had trouble placing each one.

Draco nodded, thinking deeply again. "You said this was right after he read the _Free Press,_ right?"

"Think again what you would do if you were him," Hermione suggested. "You're reading an article raising suspicion against you and your girlfriend. You're burning mad. Across the hall, you see a girl that might have slept with your friend, and who admitted she was looking into his disappearance. You read her mind." Hermione shook her head, thinking this exercise might have been easier without so many factors. "Why do that? What do you want?"

"I want to know if she's the one who hurt Blaise, if she really slept with him."

"That would make sense why he saw memories of me with you. Maybe he was looking for something, well," Hermione paused, struggling to find an accurate word. "Maybe he was looking for Blaise and found you instead."

"Maybe," he conceded. "If I'm Theo, at this point I'm running damage control. I'm trying to protect myself, and probably Pansy."

Hermione listened as Draco continued to sort through his thoughts. Everything he said made sense, but it was murky from her own perspective. How could she delve into the mind of another like that? Sorting out intentions was for Slytherins, as far as she was concerned.

"I'm assessing a threat, trying to figure out what's next. Chances are I didn't see the article coming, and now I'm looking to see if something else is coming too." Draco nodded, looking to Hermione. "I can't be sure. I didn't get him exactly right last time, from what I can tell."

"I guess we don't know that for sure." Hermione's words were slow and measured. She shuddered at her next thought. "For now though, I think it's safe to assume he knows plenty."

They lapsed into silence again. In her mind, Hermione was caught on what might happen if Theo spilled their secret. Every sight of Draco since this had begun had sent chills up her spine. She'd flush in the Great Hall, her heart would beat faster in corridors, her eyes would wander during lectures. That fear had been distant though, almost thrilling. Logically she knew it would take some outside force to break their bubble, and that was surely unlikely. _Of course,_ no one would suspect them.

Now though, the fear was real. Those horrible images of Harry denouncing her, of Ron screaming in betrayal, of Dumbledore banning her from The Order; they were all tangible now. That fear felt more justified than ever.

Her eyes strayed to where she knew Draco's mark was, right at that moment. Where it was all the time. She could only imagine what other consequences she hadn't spent time analyzing yet. Thoughts of Draco's own aftermath weren't her concern, she tried to remind herself.

"Is that my note?" Draco snatched the parchment before she could answer. "I can't be sure which, but I know it's one of them."

"Did you find another letter?"

"You haven't really read the first two have you." Draco's mouth quirked into an amused smirk.

 _"_ _Haven't read the_ –" Hermione's voice rose, indignant. "I certainly have." Her nose ticked upward, eyes flicking away from Draco's face.

"Would you like to try that again?"

"I, well I might have skimmed some parts the other night when we found it." The words were still a bit indignant, if less forceful.

Draco chuckled at her response, leaning to pull the letters from his book bag. Hermione had cast a _gemino_ charm on the two original letters they'd found so both her and Draco could look for clues later. She'd meant to study it that night, but Draco had clearly beat her to the punch.

"At one point, Blaise is talking about the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor. A few lines after that he writes _I'm so glad you're not in this useless squabbling,_ and then starts rambling about her."

" _This useless squabbling,"_ Hermione echoed, reading over the line. "You're right. So she's either a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw."

"There's a couple clues about her personally, but they're a bit vague."

Hermione brought her eyes up to Draco.

"At one point he calls her hair _cognac,_ so she's a brunette. A few times she uses words with more than six letters, and in one place he laments on how smart she is. Blaise says that _her intellect may rival my own,_ and I've never seen him give undeserved praise before."

"Are you sure? I've seen more than a few wizards let anything past their lips to woo a witch," she commented skeptically.

Draco let out a short breath at the thought. "I once saved him from a howler his mother sent him. It was about to start screeching there in the Great Hall, almost perfectly at the peak of breakfast, about things a wizard tends to prefer be kept quiet." Shaking his head at the memory, Draco chuckled a bit. "I send the howler out to the Forbidden Forest before it can go off, saving his bollocks. His only praise was on my quick thinking. Blaise continued to then critique my wand work, where I sent the letter, and not consulting him first.

"How do you send a Howler elsewhere? I've never seen that before, I've read they're impermeable to tricks like that."

"Malfoy trade secret, I'm afraid."

Hermione laughed, thinking over the story. "So you, the self-proclaimed peak of the food chain, allowed a lesser boy to embarrass you right there in the Great Hall? How very pedestrian of you."

"I then explained half of the howler's contents to our surrounding Slytherins. The other half, the worse half, gave him reason to stop critiquing."

Amused at the anecdote, Hermione agreed to allow Draco's assumption for now. If Jones and Turpin both deny though, she'll know where to look next.

"So a smart brunette, in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. So not Abbott, Bones, or either Patil sister."

"There's one or two other small things in the letters, but I'm confident it's Jones or Turpin."

Hermione had the strong urge to press him on what other clues he found, but decided she could come back to that later. There was plenty to question already.

"Did you consider fifth or seventh years? Two seems like too small a number for that criteria." Hermione scrunched her nose, trying to remember the other Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students. It was a bit disappointing to realize how little attention she'd paid to them, given how small Hogwarts is.

Draco shrugged. "I didn't. That's just our year. I assumed that he was dating someone he interacted with often, and that seemed very unlikely for a fifth year Hufflepuff."

"Yes, well. Two is a good place to start." Hermione held the letter in hand, reading over their notes once more. "Wait, I'm fairly sure Turpin is Muggleborn. It can't be her, what about Jones?"

"What a thoughtless conclusion." Draco shook his head at her in exasperation. "Surely you, given your experience with me, can assume that Blaise's knob might not discriminate?"

Hermione paused. She took a moment to think over Draco's point, studying his marble features.

"Blaise calls her _honeysuckle,_ writes declarations of adoration, and practically pledges his hand in marriage. Are you sure his heart is so willing to forgive?"

Draco's body tensed, as though he resented the question. Had Hermione not been so sure it was a valuable thought, she might have regretted poking at his favorable mood.

"I think not every wizard is made of stone, and managing one's emotions is a tricky business." Draco's eyes bore into hers, but she felt no fear in meeting them. "We should talk to both girls, and see what we can find out." His voice flattened, brushing away the words before.

Hermione had the prickling feeling in her skin that something had just happened with Draco. She shrugged, ridding the thought from her mind. There would be no shortage of time to mentally nitpick this later, surely. She was already obsessing about Blaise and Theo around the clock, why not add a third Slytherin to that list?

"I'll see what I can do. I doubt they'll take kindly to you asking questions."

Draco nodded in response, keeping his jaw locked.

Hermione felt uncomfortable in the stillness. Fear had wracked her body all day, and now the presence of Draco was calming. She wasn't sitting in Gryffindor Tower with her boys and feeling invincible; she was sitting in the library with Draco and feeling sheltered.

Leaning over and unclasping her book bag, Hermione shuffled around for her Potions notes.

"So, have you done the readings on Everlasting Elixirs yet?"

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

And on we go! I loved hearing from the mix of new and continuing readers in the last chapter. I really appreciate all the feedback I've received so far, thank you readers!


	10. Chapter Ten

**Monday, October 28, 1996**

Being in a snit with Ron and Harry had quite a few unintended consequences. One of those was walking alone from class to class.

Usually, this wouldn't bother Hermione. It actually gave her a free moment to mentally decompress from one lecture to the next, or more often, to stress over Theo's recent revelation. However, it also left her vulnerable to uncomfortable and somehow unavoidable social interactions.

"Hermione, Hermione, _Hermione_."

The sound was grating in her ears. He was inescapable! She hadn't even noticed until he'd come strolling beside her, tagging along through the hall.

"Cormac."

What was she to say? She certainly didn't want to encourage this conversation, but what nice way was there to tell him that? Draco's words hummed in her ears. _Cluing him in on the fact that he'll never shag you is cruel now?_

"I heard about your troubles with Weasley and Potter." His arm slid heavy over her shoulder, curling around her neck. "Why don't we meet in the library tonight? I'll lend you my shoulder to cry on, or anything _else_ you may need."

The _charming_ smile spread across his face made Hermione shrink back, shrugging away from the crook of his arm. Theo's peering into her mind had left her feeling mentally violated and stripped of her privacy, so Cormac's advances irked her worse than usual today. Every word just piled further atop her existing stress.

"I don't know, Cormac. I have patrols this evening."

Her voice felt too meek, too placid. She needed to stop this! This was not her – not Hermione Granger. She was a Gryffindor! Hermione Granger doesn't shy away from a challenge! Who was this girl, who refused to speak her mind?

"I'll join you then. _Anything_ could be stalking these corridors at night, Hermione. We can check all those dark nooks and crannies together, just to be safe." His voice had deepened, as though she needed any hint at his meaning.

Thoughts were beyond her. She felt worked up, annoyed at her own placating – _being meek was not for her_. Words spit from her mouth before she knew they were coming.

"I have a boyfriend, Cormac. I doubt he'd like that very much." It was the most forceful thing she'd ever said to him. She stopped walking, stepping against the wall to lay the full force of her gaze on him.

"Is that right? Who's the lucky wizard, then?" His voice was intrigued, one eyebrow cocked. Hermione couldn't tell for sure if he was expressing disbelief, so she pushed ahead blindly.

"That's not the important point here. I'm telling you that us patrolling together would be inappropriate." Hermione tried forcing a _no nonsense_ tone into her words. She was happily surprised to find it halfway successful.

Cormac chuckled, glancing around the hall as though he'd find the wizard in question. "Don't tell me it's Weasley, yeah?"

"Good afternoon, Cormac." Each word was clipped and tight as she forced them out.

Hermione turned on her heel to walk away, mind reeling. Why had she said that? A flat out lie, for no reason. Surely she could muster up enough courage to tell a boy she wasn't interested? And yet, apparently not.

She had lied, and yet, Draco's face had appeared in her mind. His words had spurned her forward. If any outsider looked at her life, they'd surely assume she was referring to Draco, whether she meant to or not. The sheer thought of calling Draco Malfoy, the spoiled Slytherin miscreant, her boyfriend was preposterous. But her dastardly heart reminded her of how Draco had listened when she vented about the boys; of how he gripped her thighs with those smooth hands; of how he gave her a break from the humdrum of routine.

No – what a _ridiculous_ notion. The line between being enemies with benefits and being in a committed relationship was thick. There was no question on where they stood. _She'd told a lie,_ Hermione reminded herself.

At least, she hoped, it would finally get Cormac to leave her alone.

* * *

 **Tuesday, October 29, 1996**

Hermione decided not to bunker down in the library that afternoon, instead trudging up to Gryffindor tower after her final class.

A week had passed now since her spat with the boys, and it was time to call a truce. Without a doubt, Theo knew of her and Draco's _situation¸_ and being exposed was frighteningly possible. If it happened soon, hopefully Hermione could mitigate their response beforehand. She couldn't even imagine the color Ron's face would turn if he found out about Draco right after she'd so vehemently denied being with anyone.

Maybe he'd come up with a new shade, like a light blue. That would be quite something.

Reaching the common room, Hermione couldn't see either Ron or Harry milling around. She planted herself onto a couch directly facing the entrance portrait, pulling out her arithmancy text.

It didn't take long for her to get lost in her notes, only glancing up whenever she heard the portrait's tell-tale squeal. When Harry's shaggy head finally poked into the room, she couldn't be sure how much time had passed.

She called their names, closing the book. Harry came over and settled on a nearby armchair, Ron ambling behind before dropping next to Hermione on the couch.

The silence spread for a moment, thick between the three of them.

"Harry," Hermione said calmly, glancing toward him. "Ron."

"Hermione," they both mumbled.

Breathing deeply, she tried to push recent events from her mind before speaking. Making up would be a bit more difficult if she was still shouting at Ron.

"I am not dating Cormac McLaggen. I have never – _will_ never, date Cormac McLaggen."

"Are you sure he knows that?" Ron piped up, cheeks pinking.

Hermione huffed. "I can't even be sure he knows he's a _wizard,_ Ronald, much less that he knows his chances with any witch." Her head shook, Cormac's unending advances fresh in her mind. The disgust on her face was clear, given how strongly she could feel her nose scrunched.

Both boys chuckled a bit. Hermione could feel the air's tension lighten ever so slightly, easing around her.

It almost made her more upset, feeling their fight begin to pass. She knew Theo wouldn't keep her secret for long – what Slytherin would? Merlin, she was impressed she and Draco had managed it so far. But soon, the boys would be fighting her again, eating in silence, shouldering her out of their little trio. _What had she done?_ Risked it all, for Draco? For a sweaty secret and a temporary release?

Hermione's shoulders raised taut, her neck stiff. Certainly she hadn't permanently risked their little club; their trio against the world? Hermione couldn't be sure how she'd handle becoming a one witch army.

Harry was a brother to Hermione. In the end she knew he felt the same, having her as a sister. But, Harry would never choose her over Ron. She was the unofficial third wheel, and they all knew it. It was a sad truth, but a familiar one. Whatever happened in the next weeks, Hermione could tell it would test her relationship with Harry and Ron.

There was nothing to be done now – she'd dug this hole for herself. Hermione took a shuddering breath, hoping to clear her mind. One step at a time.

"Famous quidditch stars only, then?" Ron asked jokingly, leaning ever so slightly toward her on the couch.

She laughed a bit, for a moment fondly recalling her time with Viktor. She couldn't help but think of Draco's experience chasing snitches as well.

"If you recall, _I_ wasn't the one fawning over his quidditch records all term."

Ron huffed, a growing smile on his parted lips. " _World Cup_! At eighteen! A seeker! Let's see you do it, then!"

"He _did_ lose." Harry pointed out.

"He caught the snitch!"

"And it didn't matter, they still lost!"

"What do you want from him – to cover every position himself?"

"Of course not, bloody anarchy of a team."

"Blame Zograf, couldn't block a quaffle if he actually tried."

"Like he –"

" _So,"_ Hermione interrupted, "can we go back to normal now?"

Ron and Harry shot each other final annoyed looks before turning to her.

"Fine. You're not with McLaggen, but you'd tell us if you're hiding something, right?" Harry spoke before Ron could, watching her movements carefully.

She splayed and stretched her fingers, cursing her urge to ball both fists.

"Harry, I just don't understand this fascination with my schedule, honestly." A laugh choked out from her throat. "I've always been busy, even more now with N.E.W.T.s coming up. Our classes are important! Really, we should be discussing how you and Ron aren't swamped yourselves – they're even harder than O.W.L. exams!" Hopefully, Hermione had learned how to side step her friends well enough over the years that they wouldn't notice. A lie by omission was enough, she didn't need to make it worse.

She pointedly ignored as the corners of Harry's mouth tipped down.

" _Hermione,"_ Ron's pitched whine sounded. "Come on, not right now." And with that, Hermione knew Ron was over it.

* * *

 **Thursday, October 31, 1996**

 _Honeysuckle._

The search continues.

Hermione wasn't wholly convinced that Draco's list of possible girlfriends was accurate. Neither Lisa nor Megan were purebloods, and Hermione had a hard time believing that Blaise's heart would be so willing to break from the fold. Purebloods were a cult with only one way in; being born.

And surely there could be some inter-year mingling. Even she, the touted bookworm, had kissed a boy two years older than her! Blaise wasn't a prude, so Hermione had made her own list. It hadn't grown too much in comparison to Draco's, but there were a few girls she wanted to speak with.

How to ask, though – that was the tricky part. She would need to stay casual, kind of aloof. Hopefully she could come off as only mildly interested, as though politely following the train of conversation. Draco of course was much better at all of this, but no fifth year Hufflepuff would divulge her romantic secrets to him. Whether she was skilled or not, Hermione had a much better chance of getting answers on her own for now.

Strolling from lunch that afternoon, Hermione almost couldn't believe her luck. Not ten meters in front of her was a fifth year Ravenclaw, Begonia Kettleburne, who'd made the list.

Dying to start narrowing down the names, Hermione sped up her steps to meet Begonia. They'd never spoken before, and Hermione wanted to learn all about a sordid affair with a missing Slytherin, so she tried to keep her face calm and her gait casual. _Casual_ , she repeated, _like I do this all the time._

"Begonia?"

The girl jumped away, startled to hear her name. "Hermione Granger?"

Seeing her face, Hermione recalled a recent conversation with her favorite professor. "McGonagall mentioned you were taking her advanced Transfiguration sessions this term. How are you liking them so far?"

Begonia seemed even more surprised as Hermione began talking, and paused for a moment before speaking.

"They're – yes. Well, I am." The girl shook her head, rolling back her shoulders before continuing. "They're very interesting. The extra work is quite cumbersome, but McGonagall's lectures on the manipulation of vanishing spells and their creation is fascinating."

Hermione nodded, recalling the course. "I remember those lessons."

Begonia began explaining where they had reached in the course. Hermione kept the conversation as natural as possible, hoping she could steer this effectively toward Blaise.

"Yes, have you reached her discussions of the recent political history with vanishing spells? That must have been my favorite lecture."

"I don't remember discussing that, no." Begonia shook her head. "It must be coming up soon. What does McGonagall say?"

"She has some great explanations of how they were repurposed during the war years, and the regulatory battles surrounding their use," Hermione supplied, hoping the other girl's ears didn't find the words as forced as Hermione's own did.

Begonia's eyes widened, "Oh wow, that does sound very interesting. So people were modifying the spells somehow?"

"They were." Hermione nodded. "Rather than vanishing rats and snakes and goblets, people were vanishing anything you can think of. Some created objects like portkeys, as she describes, that people used to vanish themselves."

"Like Blaise Zabini!" Begonia whispered, glancing around the empty corridor. "Up in thin air! With no trace! I wonder how that's different than apparition."

Hermione could feel herself deflate. She hadn't even done that much guiding before Begonia had given up the game on her own. No lovesick sweetheart looked so outwardly fascinated and animated at the thought of her love vanishing himself.

"It has to do with the difference in location selection and use, but I'll let McGonagall explain. I must be going to my next class now, good luck with Transfiguration!" Hermione excused herself, stepping away and continuing through the hall.

Begonia Kettleburne was officially removed from the _Honeysuckle Possibilities_ list. Hermione felt herself get one step closer to figuring this out. If every witch tipped her hand that easily, this would be a breeze.

Hopefully she could speak to Megan or Lisa soon and knock them off the list, given how sure Draco was. If Begonia had outright confessed right then and there, Hermione suspected Draco would be looking for more proof. Given what Theo had said about Blaise's tendency to stray, she might even need proof that this girl was the only one!

Hermione sighed to herself, knowing that was just her pride talking. None of the girls on her list could she picture with Blaise. Not that she could really picture him with Megan or Lisa either, but she did assume they were the most likely candidates.

The girl had to be someone there in Hogwarts. So if Hermione had to ask every last student, one by one, then she'd get it done.

* * *

 **Saturday, November 2, 1996**

Hermione stopped for a moment, listening intently for any meaningful noise. The old groans and taps of the aging castle didn't disturb her as she tried to pick out a pattering of footsteps. The dungeons weren't far now, and Hermione knew she'd hear Draco's impatient humming soon enough.

Draco had finally set the details yesterday for their first occlumency lesson; this evening at ten in an empty dungeons classroom, tucked away from the main corridors. Hermione knew this was a good idea, as patrols would most often be finished with this part of the castle by now. Most prefects hated walking the dungeons alone at night, like any non-Slytherin would.

When Hermione reached the room that he'd described, she could hear his faint humming from just outside. She pushed the door open to see him laying back across an empty potions desk, twirling his wand in circles. He glanced her way when she came in, giving a small nod in greeting.

"Draco."

"Running a bit late, are we?"

"My commute was a fair bit longer than –" Hermione was cut off in surprise, realizing why he was waving his wand.

Her head ducked down, trying to shield her from a small flying copper cauldron. It was certainly far enough away not to hit her, but seeing it jet around in the air was shocking enough.

"Was a warning too much to ask for?" Hermione's voice raised a pitch or two in response.

The cauldron swooped low before dropping to the floor with a clang. "Don't be so skittish, Granger. You were perfectly safe. If I wanted to smack you across the room with a cauldron, I would have done it months ago," he said with a hearty scoff.

"Maybe I wasn't questioning your intention as much as your ability." Her nose might have risen _a bit,_ yes, but that was of no importance.

Hearing the words come from her mouth, Draco gave a deeply amused laugh. He brought his chest up from the table, leaning back on both arms as he caught his breath. "Don't you Gryffindors get in trouble for lying like that?" He asked with a haughty smirk.

"I can't say it's nearly as encouraged as it is here in the dungeons."

"And yet, you've lied to your little friends all term. How exactly does that work?"

Hermione's throat tightened. The boys were still a tough topic for her right now. Lying to them was much easier when she didn't have to think about it.

"And you've been straying from the little pureblood pond all term as well. How does it work for you?" Hermione felt the sugary sweet words hit the ground as they left her mouth. Picking at his choice of her felt weak and meaningless. Hadn't he'd said so himself? _Knobs don't discriminate._

Draco didn't respond for a moment. His eyes narrowed, and she assumed he was deciding what to say next. They waited in baited silence as Hermione allowed Draco to choose.

She used the small break to study him. Even this late in the evening, he was still wearing his pressed uniform and impeccable dress shoes. His sweater and tie were gone, and only his wrinkled dress shirt remained, one button undone. Hermione found that she'd grown to like seeing him tousled like this. He, the impeccable upper class man, let the veneer fall away in private. His features were sharp and pointed, dramatized in the room's muted light. Once again the fringe of his hair was draped across his forehead, only a smattering of pieces tucked away behind his ear.

"I'm not here this evening to discuss pureblood social politics, and I know you aren't either." Draco's voice was flat and monotone. His disinterest in fighting was a pleasant relief to Hermione. The excitement of learning occlumency had largely been tempered by having to let Draco explore her mind. Having him angry wouldn't make it any easier.

"Well." Hermione paused, unsure of what to say. "How do you block legilimency, then?"

Draco's mouth pursed, as though holding a lemon between his teeth. "Occlumency is just closing off your mind. Depending on the person, it can be impossible."

"But people can become experts. Some with very advanced skill can repel veritaserum, or even the imperius curse."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Yes. Ten points to Gryffindor for being such a _swot_ ," he said, voice almost near teasing.

Hermione's lips twitched, suppressing a smile.

"Basic occlumency is just clearing your mind. It's like putting a brick wall between you and the legilimens. They know it's there."

"So, how is it done?" Hermione asked, nervous to begin practicing.

"Just like I said, clearing your mind. When those images start trying to flash by your eyes, don't let them. Don't let your emotions rise." Draco shrugged.

Hermione thought on this for a moment, trying to imagine how that could be done. When Theo was using legilimency on her, she'd felt powerless. The idea of taking control of her mind seemed impossible at the time. From Harry's descriptions of Snape's occlumency lessons, he'd felt the same.

"Let me see what it's like, from the other side. I just can't imagine how to do that." Hermione shook her head, annoyed at the inability.

Draco nodded, motioning her with his hand to try. Hermione raised her wand in response, whispering the spell.

Immediately, Hermione understood the term _brick wall._ Mentally, she could feel herself within Draco's mind, but there was nothing to see. It was like reading a blank piece of parchment. Beginning to grasp the idea, Hermione looked away to break the connection.

Draco's face stayed calm, seemingly unaffected by her intrusion. "I'm going to try on you now. I'll try not to look through your memories like Theo did, but just read your thoughts for a start." His eyes locked on Hermiones', holding her attention. "You have to clear your mind, just try to think nothing at all. Focus on your breathing, if you have to."

Hermione nodded in response, closing her eyes to calm down. "Okay. Let's try."

He spoke the spell, meeting her opened eyes.

The breaching of her faculties was eerily familiar, and Hermione worked to ignore the new presence in her thoughts. Mentally, she pictured a white wall wrapping around her, holding her still. Deep breaths forced in and out of her lungs, but her blood rushed in her ears. Draco's face blurred in front of her, losing center.

Soon her mind began to sway, her thoughts wandering from the blank wall. _How well is this working,_ she wondered.

"Actually very well, until just then," Draco responded aloud.

Hermione scolded herself, annoyed at the failure. "It was working until then though?" At Draco's nod, she continued, "how long did that last, a few minutes?"

"Not nearly," he deadpanned. "Thirty seconds, if that. But it worked – and that's a good sign."

" _Thirty seconds,"_ Hermione whispered in exasperation. "Fine," she nodded, her face setting in determination. "Let's try again."

"You have the capability to do it, but you have to have the self-control manage your mind."

Hermione tried not to wonder if he'd ever given such flattery to her magical abilities. Certainly she couldn't recall him saying such things _before_ they began sneaking around.

Draco whispered the spell, catching her eyes once more.

 _Focus,_ she reminded herself. Her mind constructed the white wall with ease initially. Roughly she could tell she'd lasted longer than before until intrusive thoughts began to pierce her mind. She nearly began mentally listing shades of white until she remembered, _self-control._

 _White wall. White wall. White wall. White Wall._

Refusing to lose focus, Hermione repeated her mantra on a loop. Narrowing herself down to those words helped maintain the image. If she kept the words locked front and center, she wouldn't have the capacity to think of anything else.

 _Doing well,_ she thought.

"Again – until just then, yes." Draco snapped the connection. His arms raised to cross behind his head, pushing them in a stretch. "Nearly five minutes, that was better."

It had felt so much longer in her mind, grueling almost. Her brain was so often buzzing from one idea to the next that she exhausted herself trying to stop it. Hermione couldn't stop herself either from musing on Ron's probability for greatness here.

"Could you hear what I was repeating to myself?"

Draco's calm façade cracked for a moment as he snorted in annoyance. "Bloody hell, of course I could. If that's what keeps your focus though, keep it up. Might as well just annoy the wizard out of your head, they'll already know you're using occlumency."

They continued on this routine for what felt like hours. Hermione made incremental progress each time. She knew this was more progress than could be expected for any other sixth year, but couldn't help striving for better. When her times began plateauing around ten minutes, she could feel herself tiring. Eyelids fluttering, she craned her neck in a stretch. Her elbows on her knees in a chair nearby Draco. Somehow, she knew there would be little more progress this evening. She wasn't quite ready to admit that though – by Merlin, she _would_ reach that eleventh minute!

Lounging again across a potions desk, Draco was beginning to look just as fatigued. A palm raised to rub his eyes, running down the length of his face.

"Once more, and then I'm returning to my dorm for a small coma." Draco sighed, pulling himself up to lean across his lap, hands gripping the desk's edge. Giving her only a moment's breath, he whispered the spell.

Hermione could feel herself slipping from the start. Surely she wouldn't last long, she knew. Thoughts were threatening to break her focus when something flickered in her mind. Memories began to rise, images floating in a haze behind her eyes.

The feeling of being trapped surrounded her again, boxing her in.

She was back to August, hugging her parents at King's Cross. Her mother kissed her cheek, whispering words of encouragement and praise. Her father held her in a silent hug, squeezing her with love. She was walking away, glancing back to see them waving. Her heart tugged both at the thought of missing her parents and returning to Hogwarts.

The image swiped again, and she was back to the Quidditch World Cup. Ron was running beside her, pulling her along. Behind her she heard screaming. She glanced back, her eyes darting frantically for Harry. He wasn't behind her, _he wasn't behind her!_ In front of her, Arthur was squeezing Ginny's hand, dragging her as he counted the running red heads. Fear coursed through her blood. Spells whizzed about and lit up the night somewhere to her left.

Another swipe, and she was walking behind a young Ron and Harry. It was her first year, and she had just left class, heavy books weighted her shoulder. Ahead of her, Ron made snide remarks to Harry, mimicking the so frequent complaints of her earlier years. Her eyes burned, her stomach sank. She pushed ahead of the crowd, caring only to be alone as she hid her red face.

A blur, and then she was in the Gryffindor common room. Harry was close to the fire, arms wrapped loosely around his raised knees. The cool air was pushed back only by the fire's warm glow soaking over her skin. She sat in the couch close by, Ron's arm slung behind her back. A bumbling noise sounded out from the entryway portrait, and the trio turned to see Dean and Seamus falling over each other, bubbling with dazed laughter. Ron leaned into her, already laughing in amusement, reaching close to her ear to whisper –

The connection broke.

Her heart was pounding, beating against her chest. Arms raised to cross over her front, shielding herself. Her breathing quickened, mouth opening in shock. The trapped feeling was ebbing away but her fear materialized in waves.

" _Why,_ " she whispered, "why would you?"

Theo's invasion had been terrifying and invasive, but Draco's had felt like betrayal. Those memories were so _personal._ Her mind, her _soul,_ was bared before him without even the choice.

"I didn't – it doesn't –" Draco stuttered, pushing himself off the desk, suddenly wide awake.

The rooms darkness forced an intimacy that Hermione almost couldn't stomach. Draco had already seen so much of her life, and now, he'd seen two of her most painful memories, of her loved ones.

"You _knew_ how much Theo had scared me."

"I wasn't trying to see those. It doesn't work like that." Draco shook his head, stepping forward. His hands came out toward her, palms facing forward. "My mind just _slipped._ "

Hermione shook her head, leaning back away from him.

"Keeping in the front of your mind like I've been, that takes focus too," he tried explaining. "I wasn't looking to see anything."

Her throat was drying as air sped in and out of her lungs. She tried forcing her breathing to slow, forcing herself calm. "You didn't stop yourself, you could have _stopped._ "

"I couldn't – it takes a second." He moved forward again, only a few deliberate steps away from meeting her. "Once I realized what was – "

" _It's like riding a broom,_ isn't that what you said? That you can steer?" She shook her head, " _steer_ your way out of my mind!"

Draco was right in front of her now. "I _did_ steer. I got out when I could." The words were spoken earnestly, forcing their way beyond her boundaries. Her heartbeat was finally beginning to slow, the red lightening from her face.

"I need – just, some time." She whispered, standing from the chair. "It's late. I have to go." Hermione looked up into his face. He looked gaunt. Darkness pooled under his eyes, contrasting his pale skin. The usual aura of power and strength that radiated from his being was dulled with fatigue.

Her had raised halfway, nearly laying on his forearm. "I have to go." She repeated, shaking her head. Stepping backwards, she turned around, walking toward the door, out of the classroom, and away from the dungeons.

Hermione didn't want to, she _didn't_ , but she believed him.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I was so enthralled by the response received for chapter nine! Things are certainly heating up for Hermione, and I'm so excited to watch everyone's reactions as her story unfolds. Thanks to each and every reader, reviewer, and follower - I hope you enjoy this chapter!


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Wednesday, November 6, 1996**

Hermione hadn't seen Draco since _the incident_ on Saturday.

Instead, she'd spent her time comfortably enshrined in Harry and Ron's company. She'd also gotten a bit more ahead on her coursework, which had woefully gone to the wayside while she spent time with Draco. That wasn't to say she was missing assignments, just that she was only one week ahead on her readings instead of the usual three.

It had only been four days, but Hermione was doing everything she could to not think about what had happened. If her mind was busy enough, she wouldn't be able to obsess over what he'd seen – or what she'd relived.

Late Wednesday evening found her sneaking through the kitchens, her beaded purse full of pilfered snacks hanging from one shoulder. Gryffindor tower was a very long walk away, and Hermione wasn't excited at the prospect of getting caught on the way.

She thanked a house elf for the treats before poking her head outside the kitchens, looking from side to side. In the darkness, she didn't see anything askew. She stepped out and began walking, keeping a watchful eye on the darkness. A quarter way down the corridor she froze, one foot jutted out in front of another.

Footsteps.

 _Bloody patrols,_ she swore, shaking her head. Hermione glanced around, failing to find anywhere to hide. Her heart began beating faster, a slight fear trickling up her spine. The footsteps were coming even closer, surely she only had seconds now. Wand whipping in the air, Hermione cast a disillusionment charm just as they turned the corner. The stone wall came up cold to her back as she flattened herself against it.

Holding her breath, she listened to the oncoming patroller. Only then did she notice the footsteps' pattern. Rather than the steady tapping of a cocksure prefect, Hermione heard the cautious tiptoeing of a sneaky student. She watched as the classmate passed under a gas light at the corridor's end.

 _Megan Jones!_

What luck! Hermione crept herself backwards into the shadows, barely giving a second thought before removing her disillusionment charm. Megan's name was present on both Draco and Hermione's lists of _Honeysuckle Possibilities,_ and Hermione felt a rippling satisfaction at being one step closer to her answer.

Stepping forward from the shadows, Hermione glanced around the darkness and pretended to not hear Megan's movement. She even strayed from her usual path, walking in the corridor's center rather than glued to the left wall.

Keeping a close eye on Megan and hoping to express the visage of someone completely off guard, Hermione let out a small cough. Megan couldn't be more than ten meters away by this point, so Hermione tried her best to play cool.

A gasp sounded, and the pattering footsteps stopped abruptly.

Hermione noted the sound and gave an audible gasp of her own. Pushing away all logical instinct, she cast a _lumos_ and watched as a bubble of light surrounded her. Not far away, Hermione could see the shadowy outline of another witch.

" _Please_ tell me you aren't Filch hiding over there," Hermione whispered, forcing a tone of tentative fear.

A chuckle sounded and the girl stepped incrementally forward. Megan's face was alit again, and Hermione searched for any trace of disbelief in her expression. She couldn't find any, thankfully. _Maybe her horrible acting was just more believable in the dark_ , Hermione thought.

"What a scary sight _that_ would be." Megan smiled easily, coming to face Hermione.

Hermione was then struck by the damning realization that she had no idea how to steer this conversation. Begonia's spilling had been a convenient combination of sheer timing and luck, but now Hermione found herself at a standstill. How could she connect with Megan?

She fumbled with her words for a moment, working to maintain her faux anxious look. "I've had Filch chase me one too many times through these corridors already, I don't think I could take another round."

"Is that true? I can't say I ever thought of Miss Hermione Granger as a Hogwarts rebel." Megan cocked an eyebrow, sizing Hermione up in jest.

Hermione nodded, raising her brows in assurance. "I can honestly say I've broken more rules than many would guess. A few weeks ago Filch found me not far from here – I hadn't ran that fast in quite a while!"

The girl laughed with mirth, and Hermione found it overwhelmingly authentic. "Last month he almost caught me leaving the astronomy tower around this time. I thought my heart would come right out of my chest!"

 _The astronomy tower?_ Hermione thought. It served as one of the most notorious late night spots in the castle, besides the recently uncovered room of requirement.

"It's tough to think of a worse time to see the old man – right after a late night rendezvous." Hermione paused, feeling like a fool before the words had even left her mouth. "I might need some recovery time before such a rude awakening." Hermione had to refrain from shaking her head. How blatantly she'd just referenced sex _,_ like they were friends gabbing over warm scones.

Megan gave an exaggerated shiver in agreement. "Thankfully we got away. I really thought that wicked little cat would catch us, but thank _Merlin_ for all these scattered classrooms." She laughed fondly at the memory, and Hermione assumed she was thinking of the person she'd been with.

"Must be quite the wizard to be worth risking a detention with Filch…" Hermione suggested, trying to twist her mouth in a knowing smirk, feigning casual disinterest. She felt like a bumbling troll. Surely this wasn't subtle enough, if Megan looked at all she _must_ have been able to see right through it!

"You could say something like that," Megan hedged with a laugh. Her eyes drifted over Hermione, focusing on the small purse at her hip before moving up to the kitchen's entrance. "I'm sure you know _exactly_ who's worth the risk," she teased. Her smirk mirrored the image Hermione had been hoping for.

"Oh, no. I –" The words spilled before she could think, tripping over her lips. _Why couldn't she just play along?_ Hermione scolded herself, annoyed at the slip-up. "It's just Ron and Harry this evening, friends." She smiled, trying to ignore the misstep.

"Yes, _friends_." Megan laughed again, and Hermione couldn't help feeling like she'd missed the joke. "That's what I call them too, at first."

Blood pulsed in her ears, speeding up in her chest. Her fingers twitched, itching to reach out and physically shake the answers from Megan. She was playing coy, and Hermione wanted blunt.

"I take it you don't escort your _friends_ up to the astronomy tower at night?"

"Not without intention to change that." Megan's smile was syrupy, teasingly sweet.

Hermione wasn't sure what to say, her mind struggling to get this back on track. What words would find the answer?

Megan continued before Hermione forced any response from her lips. "Tell me though – Ron or Harry? I've got ten galleons riding on it, and no one can agree on the answer."

An indignant scoff popped from Hermione's lips. She was rapidly tiring of Megan's presence, _the snooty little witch._ Rumors of her and her best friends had run rampant for years, but rarely did non-Slytherins bring them up to her face. Certainly not with such a friendly lilt, as though Hermione had been teasing the answer for years.

Were girls not just allowed to have _friends?_

"Fine," Hermione tried to squeeze the annoyance from the words. "I'll tell you if you tell me."

Megan laughed and Hermione almost expected the girl to pop a wad of chewing gum in her mouth. Her mind was torn on whether she wanted her to reveal Blaise's name or not. As much as Hermione craved the finality of an answer, of the next clue, she dreaded another moment spent in this girl's company.

"Look at you! The swot has something worthwhile to say after all," the smirk twisting her face was smarmy, condescending. "If you must know, it's Cormac McLaggen." Megan's eyes turned greedy, narrowing on Hermione. "Now, Ron or Harry?"

Hermione's lips thinned to a straight line, all of her muscles taut. "Neither."

Clutching the purse at her side with stiff fingers, Hermione then walked right by the other witch. Each step was measured against the last, carrying her up further into the castle.

 _All of that, for nothing!_ Hermione's satisfaction at crossing another name from the list of possibilities was dampened by her time with Megan. _Surely,_ she thought, _there must be an easier way than this._

The interaction mulled in her mind while she walked back to Gryffindor tower. Hermione idly hoped the boys wouldn't ask why their pasties were cooler than normal when she got back. Talking with Megan had only cost her a few minutes, but it was rare for Hermione to dawdle when out after curfew. Only a moment was spent on that however, because she also realized she'd have to discuss this with Draco.

Nearly every step of this _thing_ (Hermione still couldn't be sure _investigation_ was the correct word) had been taken somehow with him. Over time, she'd even come to appreciate their efforts spent working through each obstacle together. They'd talked each other through Theo, _Honeysuckle,_ the disappearance – she couldn't just withhold this now. Especially since Megan was half of Draco's list.

Hermione paused outside the Gryffindor tower portrait, faintly hearing laugher and rousing jubilance within.

She was torn in deciding what to do about Draco. Half of her truly wanted to discuss and dissect this evening with him, but another half was still reeling from his mental slip.

Pulling a small tart from her purse with a sigh, Hermione spoke the password to enter the Gryffindor common room.

* * *

 **Friday, November 8, 1996**

Friday morning arrived and Hermione had yet to tell Draco about Megan. It seemed to cross her mind once a minute though – or maybe that was just Draco.

They hadn't been alone together for almost a week. Even longer had passed since she'd touched him.

Her eyes flicked upwards, glancing over her warm mug of coffee to the Slytherin table. His morning seemed to arrive just as dully as hers had. His sharp features were pinched in absent distaste as he surveyed the surrounding students. Draco's hand hovered a piece of toast over his plate as he paused between bites. Hermione watched as he brought the food to his mouth, taking a careful bite. He chewed purposefully, and Hermione could nearly see the muscles move in his jaw with every expansion.

"That'll be the post," Ron gestured toward the fleet of arriving owls.

Hermione's eyes snapped away from Draco, flashing around her anxiously. Sharp teeth sunk into her cheek in annoyance, cursing her foolish eyes for wandering.

"Any guesses on today's _Free Press_ headline?" Seamus piped up, leaning toward the group with a snarky grin.

Ron barked a laugh, "I heard Carmichael got caught out after patrols by Finch a few nights ago."

"Head Boy run amok? Can't be the first time," Seamus queried, skeptical.

"It's not that it happened, it's _who with_." Amusement was thick in Harry's voice as various pieces of mail began dropping around them.

Hermione half-listened as she waited for her own post. Other than _HFP'_ s recent dive into investigative reporting, she still couldn't care less what they _published_ (their word, not hers). Soon a small stack was deposited in front of her. She found little of importance, and chose to flip open her _Daily Prophet._

Within moments, sharp gasps and whispered titters began to erupt around her. Hermione locked her eyes on the words printed in front of her. Surely, Ron had guessed right on that morning's front page. She needn't waste her mind capacity on meaningless gossip.

The printed words on her _Prophet_ were becoming more and more difficult to focus on. With each new gasp, she found herself starting her sentence over. Her perseverance lasted about two paragraphs until she had to close her eyes, listening to the chatter.

"Will they do anything, you think?"

"From a student paper? Why would they?"

"I guess they might not even know this is being printed."

Hermione's curiosity was frustratingly piqued. Slowly opening her eyes, she let them glide beside her to the parchment grasped in Ron's hands.

 ** _Six Weeks with No Inquiries, Where is the Ministry?_**

Hermione pursed her lips. Were there not Aurors in the castle a few weeks ago? Granted, they had done nothing of consequence, but there had been at least _some_ inquiry. The question was a justified one, but Hermione disliked sensationalism just the same.

Continuing to scan the parchment, she tried to remain discreet. Right after reading the last _HFP_ article that mentioned Blaise's disappearance, Hermione's mind had been abruptly invaded. She'd grasped the absolute basics of Occlumency since then, but wasn't willing to bet them against Theo's own skills in Legilimency.

The _article_ was filled with thinly veiled anger at the lack of investigation into Blaise's disappearance and Katie's attack. Hermione almost found herself agreeing with whoever was writing this, but stopped herself with the memory of Umbridge. Any Ministry interaction with Hogwarts felt largely unwelcome at the moment.

It continued on that vein for a while until taking a sharp return toward their recent coverage of the incidents. Namely, they began pointing fingers at a certain Slytherin.

 _The Ministry is allowing a possible murderer to roam the halls of Hogwarts without reproach. Mr. Nott is suspected of involvement with both the September disappearance of Mr. Zabini and the October attack upon Ms. Bell. How many students must he terrorize before the Ministry is finally shamed into action? Without any response, we must instead direct an important question to Mr. Nott._

 _Who's next?_

Every muscle in Hermione's body tensed. She restrained herself from glancing up to Theo to gage his reaction. Surely it wasn't positive.

Instead, she tried diverting her focus away from the Slytherin table and onto other pressing questions. For example - how could they _possibly_ get away with printing that?

"How is Dumbledore still allowing this?" Hermione dropped the paper in her hand, directing her attention to the professors' table. She shook her head in stressed disbelief. "They've now flat-out accused one of his students of murder, and he's going to just ignore it?

"Have we not had this conversation already?" Harry asked exasperatedly. "Surely he has everything under control."

Ron shook his head with vehemence. "It's a bloody free for all, mate! Seamus is shagging everyone, Theo's on a rampage, and the _Free Press_ is just covering it!"

"It is not a _free for all,_ Ron. You know just as well as I do that Dumbledore is keeping an eye on all of this."

Ron's head jerked quickly across the hall. "Really? Then why is Nott sitting right there, and not a cell in Azkaban?"

Hermione huffed. "I have yet to see any solid evidence, Ronald, unless you know something we don't. Whether Dumbledore's paying attention or not, he certainly doesn't have the duty to go about just locking up anyone at will."

"So you think he didn't do it, then?"

"Well, I –" The words had begun spilling from Hermione before she knew what to say.

 _Did_ she think Theo had killed Blaise? Had cursed Katie?

Her eyes snapped across the hall to Theo for just a moment. She caught a frightening glimpse of stony anger on Theo's face before turning back to Ron. Even from just that glance, Hermione felt fear tingle up her spine.

"I guess I do, yes." Her lips thinned, and her voice had lost the resolution it had held seconds ago. "But that doesn't mean I wish to disregard the rule of law. I still want _real_ evidence."

Ron scoffed. "So let's see some action! He's probably got the memories of it all up in his twisted little mind. We just need a couple Aurors and a pensieve and we'll get your ruddy evidence."

"And how do you know Dumbledore hasn't already checked there? He's a legilimens, maybe he already knows Theo didn't do it." Harry shrugged defensively, staring hard at the eggs on his fork.

Hermione allowed the boys to continue debating the issue, finding herself unwilling to step in again. She harbored no foolish hopes of changing either boy's mind, even slightly.

Taking advantage of their distracted state, Hermione turned her gaze to Draco across the hall. Carefully, she avoided glancing at Theo again. She hoped Draco would be keeping an eye on the other Slytherins' reactions for her this morning.

Only a moment after she'd begun analyzing his movements, Draco's eyes lifted to meet hers.

Her shoulders knotted, her heart beat just slightly faster. His brows quirked at her, and she could see him lightly flick the parchment in his hand upwards.

After listening to make sure Ron and Harry were still wholly wrapped up in themselves, Hermione gave a minute nod. She watched as Draco gave a quick look to the side before meeting her eyes again. Holding her eyes, he purposefully tilted his head in that direction.

She took the hint, and her eyes followed down the table. Hermione knew who she was about to see, but trusted that Draco wasn't guiding her into a trap. Eventually, she landed upon Theo and Pansy.

They were locked in heated whispers, seemingly far from loving ones. The anger she'd seen earlier on Theo was still unnervingly present, but Hermione saw a stark contrast in Pansy. Her face paled beside Theo's. Certainly there was anger Hermione could see, but the dominant expression was fear. Theo would whisper something in Pansy's ear, and she would begin shaking her head before he could finish. He pulled away from her with narrowed eyes before she leaned forward to respond.

Hermione could only guess at what they were saying, but she could see the tension radiating from them. The article had struck a serious chord there.

Eyes returning to Draco, Hermione pushed her chin forward and furrowed her brow in confusion. Feeling confident that the boys were still distracted, she even tilted her head to the side.

Draco responded in kind, lifting his shoulders an inch and shaking his head for barely a second.

Hermione gave a tiny nod before looking back to her own table.

Somehow she was glad that their first conversation after that Occlumency lesson was in silence. It was nice to dip her toe in the pool to start. She had a poor habit of diving headfirst where Draco was concerned.

* * *

When Hermione settled herself in the library that evening after her last class, she immediately pulled out a piece of parchment. It was time to speak with Draco.

The _HFP_ article that morning was sure to spook Theo, and Hermione wanted to work through it all with Draco. Her mind had now spun alone for too long, and she looked forward to spilling it on someone else.

Her fingers twitching, Hermione quilled the note for Draco before sending it to find him. She didn't want to admit it, but felt a little anxious. With intention or not, Draco had still invaded her mind – demonstrated his strength over her. At any moment Draco could decide to skip the middleman and pull anything he wanted straight from her thoughts. The idea of being defenseless to such subjugation left Hermione's skin crawling.

After the note flew away, Hermione thought on what she'd discuss with Draco. Theo was the most important, but she needed to share what she learned about Megan as well.

It was almost an hour later when Draco appeared in the library. In that time, Hermione had pulled out her course notes and begun studying. Lost as she was in her own writings, she still physically felt his presence as he neared. She had a hard time recalling how it felt before she was so wholly aware of him.

Draco's approach was silent and slow.

Hermione studied his appearance as he came to sit in her secluded corner of the library. The blond fringe was falling over his forehead again, but his uniform was still carefully pressed and buttoned up.

He sat, and they both allowed the silence to hover.

"Hermione, I – "

"You've read today's – "

Their words clashed in the air before silence hung again.

Hermione bit her lip before trying once more. "That article wasn't good for Theo. He's going to do something soon, isn't he?"

Draco pursed his lips, focusing his eyes into the distance. She could see his chest rising and falling ever so slightly with each deep breath. He looked back to her before speaking again.

"He'll probably try to do something to make this stop. Like finding the _Free Press_ authors, maybe getting the paper shut down. Surely he's furious, I'm surprised he let them print about him a second time."

Hermione shook her head, still thinking it through. Her notes had been left motionless in front of her, but now she pushed them aside to lean forward on the table.

"If he's furious, then he'll slip up." The whisper was nearing excited, and Hermione tried to ignore what nefarious actions they may catch him slipping up in. "That's what everyone does! He might start giving himself away!"

Draco's shoulders dropped minutely, and he leaned imperceptibly back in his chair. "That's certainly possible, but I've never seen him quite so angry before. For all we know, he might just get more dedicated and careful now that more people are watching him." He let out an aggrieved sigh. "He's going to get more drastic though, that's for sure."

Hermione settled herself forward on the desk, her arms folded. Draco's scent was noticeable now that she was closer. She couldn't describe the notes that came together, but she could identify it anywhere as him.

"I'll be staying away, then. If we've been dealing with the calm Theo, I don't need to meet the drastic one." Her voice dropped to a near whisper, and she could feel the words hanging in front of her.

"Finding ourselves absent of courage, are we?" Draco's voice neared teasing.

"Speak for yourself. I'm courageous, but not ignorant. I see no need to tempt fate."

They sat in silence again, and Hermione knew they were both thinking about the Occlumency lesson. It hung, and Hermione really, _really_ didn't want to talk about it. She wanted to obliviate that minute from his memory. It should have been her _choice_ who saw those moments, and that had been taken from her. She felt exposed. He knew what made her tick, what was lying under the surface. But still, he was locked away under his steel veneer, and she knew nothing about him. Draco held all the power over her.

"Look, Hermione, I – "

"I spoke to Megan Jones," she interrupted. The words slammed past her lips on instinct.

"Did you – "

"She's sleeping with Cormac McLaggen."

"When did – "

"Maybe other people too, but she's not Blaise's girl."

Draco let the silence sit again. His ire had risen under her interruptions, and now he was restraining himself not to lash out. His eyes narrowed on Hermione. The displeasure was clear across his face. When words finally did escape his tight lips, they were measured and flat.

"How did you find that out?"

"I asked."

"And that just worked?"

"She asked who I was sleeping with, so I asked her." Hermione gave a noncommittal shrug. "She told me, so I told her."

"You _what_?" Draco's voice was rising in tension as he leaned forward.

"Call it a trade."

" _Hermione,_ you can't just – " His voice neared an uncomfortable peak.

"I informed her that I was sleeping with neither Ron nor Harry. She asked, and I answered."

Draco froze, closing his eyes and forcing himself to breathe deeply. His fists clenched. His shoulders tensed and untensed. It took a while, but he eventually began to cool down. Then pressure permeating his body was visibly released, and a long breath pushed from his lips.

His eyes opened. Hermione could see the change in him after steeling himself. Any anger she'd seen before was now bubbling under the surface.

She recalled the nights when they would meet illicitly and secretly. They'd snap, burning both with ire and their heat for each other. They'd spend all night insulting and biting and despising. Rarely did they keep one another in stony silence.

"Did you get the reaction that you wanted?" His words were clipped.

Hermione tightened her arms over her chest, leaning back in her chair. Their eyes remained locked.

"It was close."

Draco nodded.

"We can either discuss this, and get over it, or you can continue being a child."

"I am _not_ being a child."

"So you want to face what happened and discuss it, then?"

Hermione pursed her lips. _No,_ she didn't want to discuss it _._ But she also didn't want to say that either. Truthfully, she wasn't really sure what she wanted. It would be nice if the whole incident would just disappear and be forgotten by all involved.

"Look, Hermione. I wasn't lying – that was an accident. I wasn't _trying_ to see those memories."

"That's not the point, Draco. You did, and that's what matters."

"Fine. But unless you're a master obliviator, there's not much we can do about it." The words were still measured, but the tint of malice was weakening.

"Well," she stopped, unsure how to continue. "I'm not." It felt lame slipping from her lips, but she was at a loss of what else to say.

Draco flexed his jaw as he watched Hermione. His demeanor was still unwavering and impersonal. Hermione found herself unfamiliar with the boy across from her.

"What is it that will make you get over this? We've established that we can't turn back time and make it not happen. So what will it take to help you move on?"

Hermione felt herself frown. Why was she being chastised for him not controlling his own legilimency?

"Show me something you don't want to. Something _personal._ "

" _What_? Of course not."

"That's what you did to –"

"I told you it was an _accident,_ " he stressed.

"– to me. You've seen my cards without me ever showing them. I didn't get to pick what was revealed to you."

Draco huffed, his veneer breaking for just a moment in annoyance. "I'm not going to let you just root around in my mind at will."

"I don't want that. That's not what I said and you know it. You can pick, but it has to be _personal_ and _painful._ "

"I don't – Hermione."

"Two memories, and I'll try to move on."

"You'll _try_?"

"Draco – pick," Hermione said, resolute in her decision. No option seemed fair to her, but at least this way he lost some of that power – he would be just as vulnerable as she was. "You saw _four_ memories of mine that I didn't get to pick. You pick _two_ , give me some time, and we can get back to our Occlumency lessons."

"Swot. All of this and you're still gnawing to get back to learning, aren't you?" His lips quirked into a tiny smile, but his teasing tone was incompatible with their conversation.

She scoffed, "well of course I am. I'd be silly not to, with every Slytherin skilled in legilimency and up for a fight." Her noise raised, and Hermione couldn't help looking down it at Draco. To think she would do anything but jump at the chance for a private lesson by a capable wizard in such a difficult skill. _Silly._

Draco mulled over her offer. Their eyes roamed one another's faces, waiting for one to break.

Hermione's mind buzzed with the possibilities of what he would show her. Her heart beat slightly faster at the fear of seeing Voldemort's face in Draco's mind. Surely he'd be smart enough not to give anything away, but he still may try to scare her. Scenarios flit by her eyes in a blur. _What was painful to Draco Malfoy, the perfect image of privilege?_ Hermione remembered how upset he'd been when Pansy mentioned his _plan._ She hoped without expectation that he may reveal that now.

"Fine." He nodded. Draco leaned forward with his elbows on the table, his clean shirt stretching over his chest. "Two, and then I'll kick you out myself."

"Personal _and_ painful, or it won't count," she reminded.

Draco sighed, meeting her eyes. He told her that he was ready, so she grasped her wand and whispered the spell.

The room was lavish and heavily decorated. Draco was sitting as his father paced a few meters away. The room was silent other than the tapping of his shoes, the only movement was his imposing stride. Without warning he came closer, gripping Draco's chin, his eyes leering heavily upon Draco's face. Words were spitting from his mouth with fury. The patriarch berated Draco without end, detailing his displeasure with the boy's failure. From what she could tell, his great disappointment had come in some perceived public slight. With heavy force, the man's hand came down to strike Draco's face.

The image blurred.

Draco was sitting near the Black Lake some time after sunset. Pansy sat beside him, looking into the distance in heated silence. Draco watched her for a moment before raising a hand to rest it on her back. Pansy flinched harshly, pulling away from him. She looked over to him and immediately began whispering vitriol. Draco sat in stunned silence as Pansy elaborated on how universally disliked he was, how everyone who smiled in his direction was just hoping to cash in on the Malfoy name. Pansy's scathing inventory continued as she critiqued his character, relationships, and successes. With a final derisive remark, she stood and primly walked herself back toward the castle. Draco sat as a statue, mutely watching the water skim over itself.

The image blurred, and Hermione blinked to see Draco sitting silently across from her again.

"There. You're not getting anything more _personal_ or _painful_ than that. Are you satisfied?"

Hermione's mouth felt dry. She wasn't entirely sure what it meant about Draco that he chose to show her those two memories. She couldn't even be sure when they'd happened. He had clearly given thought to what she'd see and still chosen those, and Hermione could only assume they fit both criteria.

"It's not about satisfaction – but yes."

"It's done." Draco nodded, almost visibly reassuring himself and clearing his mind. "Let's move on, then. Sunday is best for me, for the next lesson."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Welcome back to Hermione's story! I have been reading through everyone's reviews again before posting this chapter, and I want to thank everyone again once more for your kind words and thoughts. I'm so glad to hear that other people are interested in solving this mystery!


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Sunday, November 10, 1996**

Draco paced the dim room, twirling his wand in absent thought.

He'd been there for only a few minutes, but he couldn't keep himself still. His anxious mind raced – too many things were slipping from his fingers without control. Too much was happening that he couldn't stop.

Winter holidays were fast approaching, and yet things continued to get worse. He couldn't help feeling that every step he took was leading in the wrong direction.

"No flying cauldrons this evening?" Her voice was honey, filling the empty silence.

Draco's mind paused, as did his pacing. He kept to his spot in the room, only turning to face Hermione.

"Different wand movement."

Hermione stepped toward an empty desk, nodding. Draco noted her muggle trousers with thoughtless interest. Given their late night meetings, it wasn't rare for her to arrive in things other than her uniform, but it still struck Draco each time. With each view, it emphasized Hermione's difference from any other witch Draco had spent such time with.

"What's on the agenda this evening?" Hermione paused with a belabored sigh, "and please don't say it's more of the same _white wall_ routine."

Draco understood her eagerness to learn more, as he felt the same to teach her.

"No, you understand the basics of Occlumency well enough. I think we'll get started on actively blocking someone."

Hermione raised herself to perch on the desk and Draco followed suit, placing himself on one nearby. With her shoulders back and her eyes focused, Hermione looked prepared for an Arithmancy lecture.

"It's the same process," he continued. "But I'm going to actively try to find something, and you need to keep me from it." He watched as Hermione nodded, the picture of thoughtful determination. "I'll tell you what I'm looking for. Just do everything you can to not let that memory come to mind. If I see it – you lose."

"Example?"

 _Didn't you get an example the other night?_ He thought, recalling their meeting in the library. Draco tried to think of a memory to show her, something mundane but unique enough. If he were smart, he might have asked her to find his morning breakfast or walk to their meeting tonight. That, however, was a much too smart and sensible idea for Draco. The witch in front of him too often fed his addiction to bad decisions.

"Try to figure out what I worked on this afternoon," he suggested.

Draco almost bit his tongue, dangling such information right over her nose. Surely she wouldn't be strong enough to find anything he didn't want her to, but the chance was still there. Draco knew what he'd been working on all afternoon, and it wasn't his Potions revision. Hermione didn't need to know that as well.

"How can I find it if I don't know what I'm looking for?" Hermione shook her head, furrowing her brow.

"How does any legilimens find anything? Try."

Draco nodded to Hermione, and watched as she raised her wand to him. They locked eyes, and he immediately had to control himself from just blocking her completely. Hermione needed to see how the search works, and he needed to let her get just close enough to the answer before pushing her aside.

He could see as she started at the beginning of his day, jumping around without control. Flashes of his breakfast and time in the library passed behind his eyes. She found a memory of him walking the halls earlier in the week before jumping back to earlier that morning. Eventually she began to work with a rough chronological outline.

When she worked her way through his memories of lunch, Draco began subverting her efforts. Rather than her seeing him walk toward the castle stairways, he merged them into a memory of him walking out of the castle and toward the quidditch pitch. Draco had to piece a few memories together now, but showed her snippets of him grabbing a broom, waking the pitch, and surveying the stands.

Their connection snapped.

"You didn't play quidditch this afternoon – you just showed me a memory with Blaise's face in it. How did you do that?"

 _Drat,_ Draco hadn't noticed that. He hadn't meant for her to realize it was a fabrication quite so quickly.

"That memory is from sometime last spring." Draco shrugged, "I didn't want you to see what I did this afternoon, so I showed you something else. It's not the best option, but it's the next step up."

"So you," Hermione paused, considering this idea. "You guided me, somehow without me being able to tell?"

"Depending on the person, as you can see, it's not perfect. It can work if they're not familiar enough with legilimency or not paying enough attention." Draco recalled his own time spent learning these tricks as he explained them to Hermione. Hours upon days upon weeks spent in the family library, studying methods and philosophies. Months of subtle practice around family and friends, dodging invasive queries. He'd been caught plenty of times, but that was the risk.

"Alright." Hermione's chest rose with a deep breath. "Let's try."

"I'm going to look for what you did this morning, just don't let me find out."

Hermione nodded, meeting his eyes as Draco whispered the spell.

Immediately Draco felt himself enter her thoughts without resistance. The first image he could see was Hermione leaving the Gryffindor common room, the portrait closing behind her. He skipped ahead easily through her morning breakfast as she shared quips and comments with Potter and Weasley. Draco watched as she walked from the Great Hall, a heavy bag slung over her shoulder. Just as she neared the library, the white wall blurred the edges of his mind. He pushed past her efforts and focused on the memory, but a few times she was able to wholly block him with the image.

Draco ended the spell, closing his eyes to rub them. "It's probably best to not start with the memory right at the front of your mind."

"What are you expecting of me – I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing." Hermione's face pinched in frustration. "Should I just picture a field of daisies or something?"

"Sure," Draco shrugged, annoyance beginning to cloud his mind. "This isn't some exact spell or wand movement – it's a _skill_. You have to force your mind to follow your own will over the will of others."

Draco raised a hand to rub his forehead. Hermione had done well, but he couldn't help wanting more. Soon the pressure would be on to protect themselves and Occlumency would be a key part of it. If anyone was to just peek into her mind freely, he would be at risk just as much as her.

The list of people who'd want that access was growing too large to remember. The Dark Lord, his father, Bellatrix, Dumbledore, Snape, Potter, and just about anyone else with the power of legilimency.

 _Break it off,_ he thought.

He should, he really should. But what difference would it make at this point? If someone were to catch them, they could already find mountains of proof in her mind. They'd already snuck all over the castle to meet – if someone wanted a picture they'd had no shortage of chances. Little hadn't already been risked.

And almost as terrifying – he didn't _want_ to break it off.

They'd been doing this for a couple months now, and he'd realized that any hate was waning. With all of Slytherin treating him like a sheltered animal, he found himself rather alone without her. Unlike Pansy, Hermione wasn't hoping to play tricks on him and constantly remind him of his dynastic responsibilities. She had even confided her own troubles with him, providing a welcome relief from the tightrope his life had become.

"Fine let's try again," Hermione said. She rolled her shoulders, straightened her spine, and met Draco's eyes dead on. "Tell me where I went on vacation this summer."

His eyes narrowed at her, skeptical. "You'll be able to block off multiple days' worth of memories?"

Hermione faltered slightly, breaking eye contact before snapping back to him. "I'll try – that's all I can say."

They agreed and Draco raised his wand.

His first glimpse was back in the library as he'd seen her earlier, pulling out various tomes and carefully scrawled pieces of parchment. Draco tried to lightly steer himself toward the summer, but Hermione showed him another memory from earlier in the semester instead. A fleet of owls flooded the Great Hall during breakfast and Hermione waited as a thick stack was landed in front of her.

Draco pushed back earlier and saw her descending the Hogwarts Express in London. She hugged with the Weasley clan while looking for her own parents. Trying to move forward, Draco found himself watching her get back on the Hogwarts Express again in London, now with shorter hair pulled away from her face.

Satisfied that Hermione was grasping the general idea, Draco tried harder.

Still in her mind, he added just a bit more strength to how he pushed her. Pulling back from the train scene, Draco tried to pull up memories of traveling. Immediately he watched as she walked through some building with her parents, similar to Kings Cross.

He continued to watch for a moment, waiting to see if she could stop him. Draco could feel her pushing back, and for a moment he was brought out of the building, finding himself outside. Hermione was walking alone in a field. A few seconds passed before he realized it was a field of daisies. _Clever._ He pushed them back to the previous memory and nudged forward ever so slightly, watching as she traveled by some means he couldn't identify.

It was difficult to maintain that same level of effort in her mind, as he had to hold back his natural instinct. Draco held no doubts that he could take this opportunity to overpower her, to find whatever he wanted – but that wasn't the point. If he wanted these lessons to have any effect at all, he needed her to keep up with him.

Hermione blurred the edges of his mind with the white wall, but he blocked it easily. Now was the time to develop a new defense strategy. Soon he watched as Hermione and her parents were walking out of a restaurant and into a street, immediately finding his answer.

Draco broke the connection, looking at her smugly.

"Barcelona."

"I was able to see how it works for a minute, but then it just felt like I wasn't strong enough – like I was pushing against an unstoppable force." Hermione shook her head, seemingly puzzling out the task.

"You're getting better. I kept it easy at first to show that you grasp the concept. You just have to keep practicing, build your strength."

Hermione huffed, trying to fortify herself again. "This has to be some of the hardest magic I've ever done. It feels like I'm just being blocked with every effort."

"Practice," Draco reminded. "We'll go again, this time I'll look for your conversation with Megan – "

Hermione scoffed.

"Don't _scoff_ at me!" An indignant smile quirked on Draco's lips. Once the ever straight laced and reserved swot, Hermione now openly guffawed and chortled around him. The sound was so delightfully ill-fitting that he couldn't help but enjoy it.

"Care to choose something else?"

"Hmm," Draco pretended to muse for a moment. "Let's look for the first time you came onto me earlier this term. Right there in the _library_ – "

"Would you come back to reality? _You_ came onto _me_ in the library," Hermione corrected, crossing her arms primly.

"It seems you're remembering it wrong, let's just get to the root of the problem." Draco whipped his wand up with a little twirl, raising himself from the desk, an amused smile twisting his face as he stepped toward her.

" _Draco_ –" Hermione laughed with protest, stepping back. " _Fine,_ look for when I spoke to Megan."

Draco shook his head, his words thick with condescension. "Now _why_ would I do that, when I can kill two birds with one stone – teaching you _and_ correcting you?"

Hermione went back and forth with him until they eventually settled on him looking for her meeting with Megan. Draco might have preferred looking for something more scandalous, but he knew they could come back to that later. Plus, he really wanted to make sure she didn't tell Megan about him.

As they continued, Draco could feel Hermione getting trickier. With each new memory, she was getting incrementally stronger. Hermione couldn't yet keep him from finding things entirely, but she could delay him more effectively each time.

Even such small steps gave Draco that dastardly emotion – hope. Hope sprung that maybe he could keep this time with her a secret, that she wouldn't be further punished for his indiscretions. Hope that _he_ wouldn't be further punished for his indiscretions. The route before Draco was already laden with death, he hoped not to make it worse by exposing the one witch he'd somehow grown to appreciate.

* * *

 **Monday, November 11, 1996**

"Look at his face right now," Ron gestured toward the professor's table. "Swear he's got a handful of lemon wedges in there."

Hermione glanced up, knowing immediately where to look.

"Isn't that just his normal expression?"

"How can anyone look so sour so often?"

"If anything, he's taught us it's possible."

Ron snorted, returning to the full plate before him.

Hermione had been trying to mend fences with the boys lately, and from what she could tell, her efforts were paying off. Ron's fling with Lavender was still running it's course, and Hermione was taking great pains not to comment. Hopefully the metallic taste breaking out on her tongue every time she saw them together would be for good use. If things went horribly wrong enough that her weird relationship with Draco was outed, then her work now might make things easier for her later.

Logically, Hermione knew there was no way to really mitigate that explosion before it happened (fingers crossed it wouldn't), but she couldn't help trying.

There was also the not-insignificant matter of Harry's special talent for being in right place in the right time. With the Marauders Map, invisibility cloak, and a penchant for trouble on his side, Hermione needed to keep his eyes off her however she could – especially given his interest in monitoring Draco's every move. Yes – keeping the peace was the best she could do for now.

"Speaking of Snape – can you help me with that essay, Hermione?" Ron stretched his face into an endearing smile, leaning toward her ever so slightly.

"For Defense? Ron, it's due tom–" Hermione bit her tongue.

"He's a bloody maniac, _eighteen_ inches! Man's sadistic, I swear."

Hermione was relieved that her chance to reply was stolen by Harry seating himself beside her.

"Good morning," Harry smiled, giving them both nods in greeting. "Discussing Snape again, are we?"

"Hard not to," Hermione quipped.

Ron snorted, his mouth full of toast.

"So Ron told you, then?" Harry leaned forward to pour his pumpkin juice, seemingly sure of Hermione's answer.

Her brow furrowed as she tried to recall anything noteworthy. Eyes skimming Ron, she noticed his own brow shoot up in recognition, his eyes widening. Hoping to preempt a full-mouthed explanation by Ron, Hermione immediately turned back to Harry.

"I think that's a _no._ "

Harry glanced at Hermione, his lips turned downward. "Well," Harry paused to grab more food, wiping crumbs from his hands before looking back to her. "I told Ron last night and just assumed he'd tell you."

" _Hey_ , I – "

"We tried to tell you last night but we didn't see you in the common room."

Hermione felt her body stiffen, but tried to focus on Harry's words. _Surely_ if they knew where she was, neither would be so calm. "Early night, I was up late in the library on Saturday." _Shut up,_ Hermione scolded herself, throat tightening with guilt.

"Figures," Ron supplied.

"Anyways," Harry shrugged. "I was walking back to the tower from Hagrid's and I almost ran into Dumbledore and Snape. They were walking toward Dumbledore's office, so I followed them."

"Of course," Hermione nodded. Dumbledore had seemed to manufacture a situation before for Harry to catch him with Snape, so it couldn't hurt to keep an ear out for anything interesting.

"I didn't hear everything since I had to stay so far behind, but it sounded like they were talking about this whole _Theo_ situation."

"You mean with Blaise?"

"And Katie," Ron replied.

Hermione wasn't sure how she was the only person _not_ ready to condemn Theo. Harry and Ron only really knew half the story of why Theo looked so good for the murder and attack but were twice as sure he was guilty. Hermione felt caught without any answers – how could she ever get the proof she wanted? Evidence in the wizarding world was hazy at best. Murder weapons were interchangeable and not even required since wandless magic was possible. Bodies and blood could be vanished or scourgified _._ Eyewitnesses could be obliviated. The whole event could just be wiped from memory!

For all Hermione knew, she'd done it! It was just as likely a story.

Maybe Blaise had come upon her in the corridor that evening after curfew. She would have been on edge to start with, gripping her wand. Draco had more or less confirmed her fear that the Slytherins were tied tightly with Voldemort, and Blaise was an adept enough wizard. Maybe Blaise stepped forward just a bit too fast. Maybe his smile was just a _bit_ too ominous. She could have taken the bait, the tension could have snapped – she could have tried to _defend_ herself.

Would she have had the stomach to cover up a murder? Would her friends?

Hermione couldn't remember if she'd been with Draco that night. Maybe he came upon the scene. Maybe they devised some kind of plan. Maybe neither of them remember for a reason.

"Yeah, it sounded like they were discussing what's going to happen with Theo after all this speculation." Harry's voice interjected her worries, breaking the quickly developed fog in her mind.

Shaking her head, Hermione tried to force that image from her mind. The blood still thrummed in her veins, her heart beating faster. _No._ Of course she didn't kill Blaise. Somehow she'd know – she'd have to. Something in her would have to change, to make her a different person. She'd be able to _feel_ it. Right?

Teeth sunk into her lip as her eyes flickered over Ron's shoulder and across the hall, spotting her darkest secret sitting mere tables away.

Was she that person?

"What were they saying?" Hermione tried to focus back on Harry's words. It would be nice to hear that the Headmaster didn't truly believe that a murderer walked among them.

Especially since she already had proof that Death Eaters did.

"Dumbledore said it's going to become too big for the Ministry to stay out of soon, and that it'll hit the Daily Prophet. It didn't sound like he was upset, more like he was just really sure of himself."

"Could've guessed that one though, the Daily Prophet would put Dumbledore's picture front page if he stepped in gum," Ron supplied, shaking his head as they all thought of the Prophet's pressure on Harry and Dumbledore. "They'll have a field day when they see the Free Press's articles."

Hermione realized now that she hadn't given much thought to that. Somehow she hadn't connected how Blaise's disappearance would affect Harry and Dumbledore after all the summer's propaganda. Glancing up again to the professor's table, Hermione began to worry at what might happen. Would this be enough for Dumbledore to be removed as Headmaster?

 _But no –_ aurors had already visited the castle once, and Dumbledore was still sitting right there.

"So what happens when it hits the Prophet? They've already been blaming Blaise's disappearance on Dumbledore for being incompetent." Hermione questioned over her coffee, hoping Dumbledore had something helpful to provide.

"If the Prophet realizes there's speculation against Theo, they can take Dumbledore to task for not reporting it sooner. They've already been covering Blaise's disappearance, but if they get hold of the rumors about Theo they'll come arrest him from the castle in no time. Suddenly everyone believes Dumbledore is sheltering a murderer, and the Ministry gets to save the day." Harry's eyes were wide, filled with concern and urgency at the implication.

Hermione pursed her lips, unsure of how she felt about that. Yes, rumors should be investigated, but she was firmly against arrests without solid evidence. Somehow it felt like she was missing some piece of this puzzle.

"So Dumbledore and Snape are just passing time until the Ministry steps in and makes a fuss? If Dumbledore thinks he's going to get criticized for not stepping forward to report Theo, then why not investigate it himself? Surely that would be better than sitting on his hands."

"He's not _sitting on his hands,_ Hermione," Harry immediately responded, voice biting.

"Well if that's how he thinks its going to go, why not make it better for himself – for you?" Hermione could hear her voice rising and tried to take a deep breath. If she could just step away and _think._

"I didn't hear everything, maybe he _is_ doing something and we're just not seeing it. "

"Maybe he's not! He's certainly not working to find Blaise here in the castle." Eyes were flicking in their direction, nearby conversations had dropped to whispers.

"Are you following his every step, Hermione? You don't know that!"

"Guys – " Ron tried.

"Is that not what you just said a minute ago, that the Prophet is going to point out him not doing anything? I certainly don't see anything happening here."

"Dumbledore has pulled through every time before, and we _all_ know it. Can you not just trust him?"

" _Harry_ ," Hermione felt her voice rising and outside eyes peering, and tried to reel herself in. "A student has been missing for almost two months now, another was _attacked_ , and absolutely _nothing_ has been done about it."

"Guys, come on." Ron pressed, leaning forward and forcing a hand between them.

Hermione's face felt hot, and she bit her tongue to stop from continuing. Harry couldn't be blamed, his quick temper wasn't anything new. She sipped her coffee quickly, looking away from the boys. Now was not the time to raise waves, now was the time to swallow her pride. If only she could remember that.

Breathing deeply and holding her shoulders back, Hermione turned to Harry. "I apologize, Harry." She tried to keep her lips from pursing before she continued, knowing each word was a lie. "I'm sure Dumbledore has some kind of plan that we're not seeing."

Harry nodded, and Hermione could hear him forcing heavy breaths through his nose. "Sorry I raised my voice, Hermione."

 _Raised his voice,_ Hermione had to keep herself from scoffing in return. She'd conceded her point, like a fool, only for him to claim victory.

A minute of silence passed between the trio. Hermione tried to tune out the buzzing of breakfast chatter all around them. Near the hall's entrance, Hermione could see Ginny approaching, the girl's eyes locked somewhere near Harry's ear. It was unlikely the boys would be willing to share anymore information once Ron's sister arrived, whether Hermione agreed or not. Seeing another fifth year catch pull the girl's attention, Hermione seized the moment.

"So what else did you hear?"

Ron glanced up at them, looking less than ready for another row. Harry swallowed his pumpkin juice thickly before turning back to her.

"That was biggest thing, I guess. I also learned Dumbledore's password is _shock-o-choc."_ Harry shrugged, fidgeting with the goblet in his hand. "I didn't have the cloak with me, so I only caught pieces of everything. Snape asked _how can they put it off much longer,_ and I wasn't sure who or what he was talking about."

"S'either the Prophet or the Ministry." Ron didn't look up as he spoke, his eyes still fixated on the plate before him.

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "Yes, they – in the corridors?" She paused, looking to grab Harry's attention once more. Ginny was still standing not far away and glancing toward them with every few words. "Harry, how loud were they speaking?"

Harry's brow furrowed as he thought. "It was just a normal conversation. I don't remember them shouting or anything."

Not far away, Hermione could see Ginny stepping away from the other student, nodding in some kind of agreement.

"And this was before curfew?"

"Yeah, but it was pretty close. I think it was fifteen minutes before or so."

Hermione nodded. _How odd,_ she thought. The conversation wasn't exactly sparing classified knowledge, but she might have chosen to take it inside her office, if she were Dumbledore.

"Morning guys," Ginny greeted, seating herself beside Ron and across from Harry. The group all nodded in her direction, Ron shooting her an appraising glance from the corner of his eye.

The door for any more questions was closed with the benign sound of idle chitchat. Hermione still felt tense, her jaw flexing needlessly. Realizing she need not risk another argument, Hermione stood with her bag.

"Going somewhere?" Ginny's cheerful voice stopped her movement, so she hovered near the table for a moment.

Most of the nearby eyes were on her, having fully heard her and Harry's rising voices just a moment ago.

"Just back up to the tower, I forgot one of my textbooks," she lied. Their first class would begin within the next hour, and she certainly didn't want to hike the stairs into Gryffindor tower just to immediately come back down. The nice thing was that none of them would want to either, so she wouldn't have to come up with a reason to go alone.

They exchanged parting words and Hermione turned to leave the Great Hall. It took an effort to keep her face blank as she walked. Hopefully her disagreement with Harry hadn't killed her plan to keep him out of her business.

Without even thinking of it, her eyes met with Draco's across the hall. Hermione watched him for just long enough to see his eyebrows quirk and his head tilt in question. Looking away, she nodded her head twice, not looking back as she passed through the doorway.

Hermione kept her steps even and slow as she walked further from the Hall and into the castle. When the footsteps didn't appear behind her, she soon began to feel silly. She must have misinterpreted Draco's quirked brow.

"That was quite public." Draco's voice sounded just as she stopped walking, making her jump in surprise.

Hermione sighed, turning to look at him. "And not at all my intention."

Draco chuckled a bit, stepping forward. "How odd, I often plan for my own outbursts of anger to be right there where the entire castle can watch and listen."

Scoffing, she shot him a frown. "Yes. Hysterical."

Draco nodded, taking note of her impermeable mood. "And from what I've heard, it was over the Headmaster?" He stepped forward again, close enough to catch her sweet peach scent.

"Yes, it – well it was ridiculous." Hermione shook her head, scanning walls around them, listening for any eavesdroppers. "I shouldn't have even let it start."

"What were you talking about, then?" Draco narrowed his eyes, watching her face.

"Harry heard Dumbledore and Snape talking about Theo, I think." Hermione repeated without hesitation. "There might have been more that he heard, but I couldn't be sure. I'm going to have to bring it up later – _Godric_."

Draco shook his head, trying to connect the scattered dots Hermione gave him. "What did he hear?"

"Apparently Dumbledore thinks the Daily Prophet is going to find one of the Free Press's pieces about Theo and publish it, meaning now all of Britain will be scrutinizing Theo too. Dumbledore thinks this will lead to Theo being arrested and – and something else, I just remembered! It didn't make any sense, Dumbledore said _it'll be too big for the Ministry to stay out of soon_ ," she recalled.

"After the Prophet covers it? What am I missing?"

Hermione took a deep breath, clearing her mind. "Okay, let's think logically. The ministry's main goal right now is to discredit Dumbledore and Harry. They've used Blaise's disappearance as evidence of Dumbledore's incompetence."

"So the only change would be having someone new to blame – Theo."

Hermione shook her head. "No, because there's heavy speculation against Theo but no real proof. The new difference would be that Dumbledore didn't investigate a possible culprit." Mulling over the words, Hermione tried to spin the web of everyone's motivations. "How does that make sense, though? Because they could still blame it on Dumbledore? So why are they _ignoring_ it for now?"

"After the Prophet prints the speculation against Theo, what changes?" Draco seemed just as confused, his brow furrowed and mouth pinched. "The ministry would have to step in to save face, because then all of Britain sees Theo as a possible kill – _no._ "

"What? What did you think of?" Hermione jerked her head up, hoping for a thread to follow.

"Who are we missing here? The Dark Lord. Speculation against Theo might turn the tide against the Ministry for ignoring Dumbledore." Draco shook his head, his jaw locked.

"The Crabbe family was just in the Prophet for possible dark sympathies!" Hermione remembered.

"That might be it, _it'll be too big for the Ministry to stay out of soon._ " Draco's mouth thinned as he thought further. "Theo has the mark. If he's taken in for questioning, they just might see it."

 _What is Dumbledore up to?_

"Draco! I didn't even think of that, you're absolutely right. If that accusation against him makes it to the Prophet, then the Ministry will have to intervene, and it gives credit to Harry's story!"

Hermione's eyes locked on his, sharing in the moment of revelation. Draco had followed her train of thought the entire minute or so, and she couldn't help feeling surprised. Usually once she began thinking out loud like that, people got lost and just let her figure it out alone.

"I'm worth more than just my jawline, you know," he seemed to read he thoughts. Draco's cocky grin sat comfortably on his face, breaking the ever present veneer.

Hermione still felt fraught with tension over the morning's events, but watched his eyes with a sneaking grin. "Oh yeah, you're great with your hands!"

Draco chuckled at the remark. Stepping forward, he placed one hand to hold the back of Hermione's head as he leaned into her.

"Yours aren't too bad either."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** As we have now passed what I believe is the halfway point of this story, I want to thank everyone for their time following Hermione (and now Draco). Things are beginning to unravel and reveal themselves around her now, each a hesitant clue at what may be working behind the scenes.

As always - thanks to everyone for their time, follows, reviews, and comments. I'm always fascinated to hear how people interpret this mystery.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Friday, November 15, 1996**

Draco Malfoy was having a particularly excellent day.

Last night Hermione had come to his dorm for a few great hours, leaving her with more occlumency practice and both of them with a warm, sated feeling. Then aided by a pilfered dreamless sleep potion, he slept better than he had in months. He'd risen early to spend time flying before breakfast, and had watched the sun rise in the sky. The morning's post had even brought a letter from his mother. Rarely could she write him without the interference of his father or their houseguests, which often meant she chose to just not write him anything.

So, all in all, Draco was in a better mood than normal that afternoon.

Having taken over Hermione's beloved nook in the library, Draco sat working his way through a pile of coursework. The toil was monotonous, and eventually Draco began to tune out his surroundings.

"Malfoy."

When Theo's voice shattered the silence, Draco could barely keep from jumping in surprise. He closed his eyes for a tense moment, steeling them before meeting Theo's own. Occlumency took focus and preparation, and Draco couldn't afford to be caught mentally off guard.

He returned the greeting, careful to keep his voice flat.

Theo took the seat across from him, lowering his body with measured movements.

Draco stayed silent, unsure of the other boy's intentions. He restrained his eyes from flicking around the stacks, checking the exits. They were alone for sure, and Draco needed to stay on top of his game – who knew where Theo's loyalties laid. If Draco looked as calm as he hoped, Theo might not see him as the isolated target that he was.

"Have you lost the ability to speak?"

Draco lifted his chin, studying Theo down the bridge of his nose. "I'm rather busy, Nott. Why don't you cut the pleasantries."

"Well," The nodded in acquiescence, his face turning hard. "I take it you've been following the _Free Press_?"

Draco shrugged. "I keep a general awareness of castle goings-on."

Theo narrowed his eyes, not responding. He leaned back, allowing his wide torso to encompass the view of his chair. Slowly, purposefully, Theo raised his wand hand to rest upon the table.

Draco watched, scrutinizing the movement. It was a meaningful gesture; one of respect, of deference. Eyes locked, he waited for the jerk of an anxious muscle. He would not be made a _fool._ His own wand hand stayed firmly behind the table, caressing the smooth hawthorn with his fingers.

Having waited in the silence long enough, Draco raised his eyes back to Theo's. His attention remained half zoned in on the hand resting in his peripheral.

"Is there something I can help you with, Theo?" The words were measured – flat and emotionless.

Theo's response was just as devoid of inflection, but the intent was blunt. "You should stop seeing Hermione."

Draco cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. Underneath his skin, his heart began to beat faster, the blood racing through his veins. His muscles tensed, and he tried to still his swirling mind.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're referring to," he bluffed. Both boys knew better, but Draco would be an idiot to fold so soon. With wands or words, he was no stranger to a power play.

"The advice is yours, do what you will with it. Either way – I'm outing your little _thing_ next week." Theo said the words clearly, concisely. The façade of apathy shielded his eyes, but a small frown tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Draco stilled. Within himself, he tried to summon every ounce of pureblood arrogance and indifference he could.

"Would you be so kind as to clarify what _exactly_ you plan to 'out'?" The words spilled automatically from his numb lips, and his voice sounded eerily like his father.

Theo clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and the sound snapped around their eerily quiet corner of the library. "Lurid looks across the Great Hall. Poorly executed silencing spells on your bed curtains. Late night rendezvous in the dungeons." Theo paused, cocking his head to the side. "Do I need to be more explicit?"

Hiding the clench of his jaw, Draco watched for any tell-tale twitches in Theo's resting wand hand. "Is that all you're armed with? I'm afraid light suspicion and ill informed rumors won't be enough to fulfill what you're threatening."

Theo's other hand slipped over to the chair beside him, fingering an open fold in his bag. "I think if need be, I could supply some additional proof." Retracting his hand, he laid a small square photo on the table between them.

Draco's eyes dropped, looking intently at the shadowy photo. The angle was perfect for its purpose, he had to admit. Draco couldn't place the exact evening it was taken, but he didn't need that to recognize what it showed. Her unmistakable bushy head came into frame first, reaching for the door. The empty dungeons were clear around her. The door swung open, and Draco's own face was there. At first he was just a shadowy figure laying on a desk, but he moved in time with the door, sitting up to greet her, exposing himself. There was no surprise on his features. Immediately, the whole thing begun again, her bushy head bobbing as she reached for the handle.

Silence was all Draco could muster in response, watching the loop repeat endlessly. The image burned behind his eyes.

"And if this isn't enough support, I could always take another glance inside – " Theo stopped himself, rare emotion showing on his face in the form of a grimace, " _her_ mind." His eyes bore into Draco, studying. "I know my first look was quite informative, and I'm sure others will feel the same."

Draco let his eyelids fall, struggling to maintain composure as a shaky breath passed his lips.

"Is that why you used legilimency on her that day, in the Great Hall?" Draco glanced up at him, trying to regain his calm, if not his story. "To find out if I was," he nearly swallowed the word, feeling his lips clamp over it in self-preservation, " _seeing_ her? To what end – stealing her memories to whip them around the Prophet?" He tried to force a scoff, but it caught in his throat. "A little pedestrian, even for you."

It was foolish to so readily stop his denials, but Draco was quickly learning how to spot a losing battle. The reminder of Theo's meddling in her mind had chilled his bones. There had been no mistaking the fear in her eyes and in her voice that afternoon. Draco was loathe to admit it, but the sight had disturbed something deep within him. He hadn't meant for his indiscretion to put her in harm's way, to _scare_ her. Never before had he recalled her so afraid.

"We both know I have enough proof without stooping that low."

"Then _why_?" _She was so scared._

Theo's lips pursed as he seemed to consider his answer. "You've seen those damned articles about me – about _Pansy_. I already knew Granger was investigating Blaise," he lifted a shoulder in a half-arsed shrug. "I wanted to make sure she wasn't behind them."

"You thought she wrote that first article?"

"That – or she knew who did."

Draco raised a palm to his chin, running the hand down his face as he decided how to respond. It was a pointless exercise to follow this discussion. He just wanted Theo to back down – to not tell anyone what he'd learned.

"If you know who's behind the _Free Press_ now, then you don't need to do this," Draco sat forward in his chair. "Theo, you know what will happen to me, just get them to point at someone else." The words sped as they jumped from his lips.

"Draco, you know why I'm doing this." Theo shook his head, not meeting Draco's eyes as he spoke. "Scrutiny doesn't end with the _Free Press._ You and Blaise can't seem to keep it in your trousers, even knowing the consequences." When Theo finally lifted his eyes, the determination in them was clear.

"You know what will happen to me if this gets out, what he'll do to me," his voice dropped in hidden fear.

"No, you can turn this in your favor and you know it. I'm warning you now, and you've got a week to do what you Malfoys do best, _spin._ "

Draco steeled himself to keep from frowning at the thought. He couldn't, he – he just _couldn't._ All to save his own skin – he'd have to turn on Hermione. All of that, and how long would it keep him safe, in the end? Weeks, maybe months – and he'd have to deceive her. Logically, it wouldn't be a feat to accomplish; stealing her secrets, tricking her, manipulating her – not now that she trusted him. But without even trying, Draco knew he couldn't do it.

" _No,_ Theo I can't just – "

" _Draco,"_ Theo interrupted, his voice hard. "I'm doing what I can here. I'm giving you space, I'm keeping everything I can under control. I'm taking care of things so _you_ can handle your business, but in return you actually need to do your _damn job_."

Draco looked then, looked at Theo's face. His shifty eyes were wide and Draco could detect the fear there. For a moment, Draco felt like he wasn't the only one drowning, like he wasn't the only one sinking without a rope to grasp.

"I'm working on it," Draco whispered. "It's not something I can just walk up and _do_ one afternoon."

"That's why I'm trying to manage everything else, but I can only deal with so much. If outing your little dalliance with _her_ is enough to make that clear, then I will."

* * *

 **Saturday, November 16, 1996**

" _Five minutes,_ you guys!" Hermione reminded, giving both boys a stern look.

Ron rolled his eyes, waving her off with a subtle smile. "Yeah, yeah, we'll be here."

Hermione got the distinct impression that he would _not_ be there in five minutes. Narrowing her eyes at the amused Harry standing nearby, Hermione slotted her palms on her hips in just _slightly_ exaggerated outrage.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley if you dare to make me wait for you one more time!"

Still just smiling in response, the two boys began stepping up into the wizards' dorms. Hermione pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes as she watched them go.

The trio had made plans to visit Hogsmeade this morning, and Hermione was hoping to take advantage of the mid-morning lull before most of the other students rose and left the castle. It was their first visit this term the idea of thick crowds to mull through put Hermione's stomach in a lurch. The only knot in her plan was having to trek back up to Gryffindor tower after breakfast – the boys for their cloaks and Hermione for her money. She'd nearly smacked her own head when she realized they all forgot such essential things.

Turning, Hermione ascended the steps into the witches' dorms. On the way up, she began to contemplate Draco's worrying behavior the night before.

Given his request to meet that evening in the dingy dungeon classroom where they'd previously practiced occlumency, she was somewhat caught off guard by how _little_ he wanted to discuss the topic. Instead, Draco had shown a fever for sex that she hadn't seen in a few weeks, at least. Hermione certainly wasn't complaining, _no,_ but the change on a knut was questionable.

"I've been trying to practice clearing my mind since our last lesson, but I think we should practice avoidance some more. I want to pull the trick that you did, diverting me without obviously breaking the timeline shown," Hermione had said as she walked into the classroom, her brow furrowed in thought.

"Yeah, maybe later," Draco had mumbled.

At first glance, Hermione had been struck by how disheveled Draco looked. The emerald trimmed and school sanctioned cashmere sweater was piled ungracefully on the desk beside him; the striped tie was unknotted, hanging loosely from his neck; the polished dress shoes were seemingly toed off, discarded near his hanging feet; and his spotless white oxford was half unbuttoned and partially untucked.

It was disturbing to see, in the least. Draco Malfoy was a wizard with many debatable attributes, but his pristine façade was not one of them. Surely the world was off its axis if he'd forgotten to care that the knot in his tie was _exactly_ one and three-quarter inches.

"Well, I –" Hermione had stopped herself, debating how to approach. "I'm not sure we should move to another lesson before finishing that one." The words were tentative and quiet, like her slow approach. She'd taken a few small steps toward him since entering the room, but he'd yet to look up from some spot on the stone floor.

Draco snorted just as quietly in response. "I'm not really in the mood to _teach_ this evening."

Hermione had taken another step forward when he raised his eyes to look into her own. Finally seeing his face, she was certain something was wrong. It had been a while since she'd seen his gaze so vacant. It held for only a moment before he must have noticed her wary expression and something clicked behind his eyes once again.

If she had any skill in legilimency at all, she might have tried using it right then just to make sure everything was fine.

"Come here," he'd nodded, patting his thigh.

Hermione had acquiesced, stepping forward and between his bent knees.

"Has something happened?"

Draco had given a heavy sigh then, dropping his forehead to her shoulder. His hands slid around her, dropping slowly to hold the backs of her thighs.

"We – we can talk about whatever you want," she'd offered. "Did something happen?" Hermione had glanced then at his blond hair so close to her face, close enough to rest her chin in response.

His head had shaken _no_ against her neck. "I just seem to continue living, somehow without any input of my own on the matter," he'd said sourly. She could hear the downturn to his lips. "No, I really would not like to discuss anything right now."

Hermione had nodded, even if his response had made this behavior even more odd. Having not noticed the small turn of his rested head, she almost jumped at the feeling of his soft lips caressing her neck.

"I really," he'd sighed into her skin, " _really_ just want to touch you." One of his hands had pulled her thigh forward into his as the other raised up to her arse.

"Um," Hermione had then tilted her head, exposing her neck further.

She'd closed her eyes, trying to focus on what the best course was from there. Was it ideal to push him to explain himself? _Surely if something big had happened, he'd share it with her._ Who would it hurt to just indulge his wish? Hermione was always a fan of hearty appreciation, and saw no point in trying to dissuade his efforts now.

Having felt the nagging of her conscience still, Hermione tried pushing him to talk a few more times. It hadn't been long however until he was able to thoroughly distract her.

They had parted ways last night without Hermione ever receiving a satisfactory answer, so now his actions plagued her mind.

Hermione pushed into the dorm and glanced around, noticing most of the girls' curtains were still drawn. She crossed the room to her own bed, kneeling down to the trunk at its foot.

The action reminded her of the evening she'd spent pillaging Blaise's trunk with Draco. It had only caused more questions, even with the small insight it gave into Blaise's short term at Hogwarts. She'd spilled her own mind to Draco that evening as well, confiding her troubles with the boys and her discomfort with Cormac.

Hermione knew they weren't _close_ by any stretch of the imagination, but somehow she thought their relationship had grown to include that level of confidence in one another. _If she would open up, why wouldn't he?_ Hermione worried. Maybe this was a telling moment in their _liaison;_ that she had read into moments he hadn't given a second thought. Was his prejudice so ingrained that the thought of being vulnerable around her was that deplorable? It had seemed at times that some kind of mutual détente had been reached, but it was certainly never spoken aloud.

Knowing how far she could follow this train of thought, Hermione tried to push Draco from her mind entirely – she had another Slytherin to obsess over.

Hermione cast a quick _muffliato_ to shield herself from any waking eavesdroppers and whispered the spell to unlock her trunk. After Harry's dorm had been ransacked a few years ago, Hermione had grown terribly aware of her own lack of security. She didn't need any of her nosy roommates rifling through her trunk either, so she had set to work on creating an obscuring charm. It had taken a while to tweak some existing spells for this use, but now Hermione couldn't imagine forgoing it. Without the proper password, any interlopers would just find some neatly folded uniforms and a small novel entitled _Respecting Privacy: The Foundation of Civility._

Rifling through Blaise's things might have been a bit hypocritical, but she wasn't exactly missing under suspicion of foul play.

Propping open the trunk, Hermione tried to recall what they'd learned from that little invasion besides the existence of _honeysuckle._ She reached down, moving aside a pack of quills to feel the velvet of her coin pouch.

Hermione tried replaying the search in her mind, and it took her a moment to remember what had been missing – his money. From what she recalled, there was only a few sickles in his trunk, if even that.

 _The pouch!_

Hermione's mouth almost dropped at her realization. That might be what was in his pouch right before he disappeared! Immediately, Hermione fumbled in her trunk to find parchment and a quill. Maybe Draco could confirm if the pouch had been bulging or clinking that night. If he could, then maybe Blaise's coins hadn't been stolen after all – maybe he had taken them somewhere.

 _Of course,_ how had she not seen it before? Nearly every witch and wizard in Britain kept their coins in some kind of pouch, even if it wasn't always on their person. Hermione had been so caught up on the possibilities, she'd forgotten the most likely item – money.

After closing and re-obscuring the trunk, Hermione began to scribble a note on it's top.

 _Do you remember anything about the pouch Blaise was holding that night in your dorm, right before he disappeared? I think I might know what was in it – the coins missing from his trunk._

Hermione stared at the parchment for just a moment before tacking on a neat _HG_ below the words. She folded the note quickly, hearing the groan of a waking dormmate. Before any of the curtains could open, she walked to the closest window and sent her note off to the dungeons.

Hearing the ruffling of a curtain being pushed aside, Hermione nodded to Fay and walked back to her trunk. Popping the lid to confirm the charm was activated, she stowed the quill and headed to regroup with the boys. Smiling at her waiting friends in the common room, Hermione couldn't help wondering what Blaise needed all of his money for on a normal Wednesday evening.

* * *

 **Monday, November 18, 1996**

The Great Hall was buzzing with the early morning chatter of yawning students. Hermione was absently sipping her coffee and trying to keep up with Neville as he recalled the new Herbology text he'd found. The topic was fascinating, Hermione knew, but another student in the hall was already inhabiting much of her thoughts.

Draco had responded simply to her scribbled note, seemingly unimpressed with the implications it presented. On one hand, Hermione had a countless number of follow-up questions to ask, and Draco would be her best source. _How much money would Blaise usually have on him? How much did he bring to Hogwarts? Is that kind of spending normal? What would one buy in the dungeons on a Wednesday night? Could that have to do with his disappearance?_

On the other hand however, Hermione was still concerned with Draco's recent behavior. Her mind kept replaying his odd words the other night, _I just seem to continue living, somehow without any input of my own._ She regretted not pushing the matter and forcing him to explain himself. Something had clearly happened, but she just couldn't be sure _what._ It was constantly plaguing her thoughts that she was missing some kind of crucial event. Draco's vacant expression stalking the corridors didn't help to settle her mind either.

Nodding along with Neville's bright smile, Hermione tried to summon a response.

"Yes, that's – that's fascinating, Neville. Let me know when you're done and I'll give it a read next?"

Hermione glanced across the hall to where Draco was sitting in silence, sipping some drink with his eyes glazed over. The aura of arrogance had already begun to dim this term, but she could sense the difference immediately. Draco had lost what little _joie de vivre_ he had left, and now seemed to haunt the castle with the other ghosts.

"That'll be the mail," Ron announced beside her. Hermione glanced up with the rest of the table, watching as the fleet of owls flooded the air.

A thick stack was deposited in front of Hermione as normal, her _Daily Prophet_ heavy at the bottom. She set her mug aside and began to flip through the mail with vague interest. Nothing caught her attention, and she made a mental note to write to her parents that evening. Finally she grasped her copy of the _Prophet,_ her eyes glancing at the bolded headline. As she read the printed words, her eyes immediately widened in shock.

Her gaze flew over to the Slytherin table, trying to surreptitiously find Theo among the students. She kept her mind sharp, prepared to throw up the meager occlumency defenses Draco had shown her.

Finally she caught his image across the Hall, tense and flushed. His anger was nearly palpable. A thick crinkled paper was crunched in his fist, resting on the table. The heady rage wasn't surprising to Hermione, but the tender moment he shared with Pansy was. For just a second, Theo leaned over and placed his head heavily on the girl's shoulder. Hermione could see his lips part with deep breaths before he fortified himself again and sat up fully. The couple nodded at one another, and the fear on Pansy's face was unmistakable as her hand raised to grasp the back of Theo's neck in a caress. Theo's eyes then began to scan the room, his eyes dark with obvious anger.

Hermione only dared to keep her eyes on his a moment longer before looking away, hoping to avoid his notice. The moment stuck with her, and something felt off about it – she hadn't expected that response. A knot of concern began to rise in Hermione's chest for the other girl. The fear on her face had been blatant, but the reason why was murky enough to cause worry. Hermione couldn't decide if Pansy was afraid _of_ him or _for_ him.

Hermione glanced around the hall, looking for anyone else noticing the topical news. Only a few students seemed to have opened their _Prophet,_ and they quickly spread the pages to pore over every word with nearby housemates. Thrusting her paper under her nose, she started doing the same.

 _Suspected Killer Roams Hogwarts Halls! Students Cower in Fear_

"Looks like Dumbledore was right, it's hit the _Prophet._ " Hermione's eyes flicked up to Harry and Ron's before returning to the article spread over her plate. Last week's eavesdropping had still been a touchy topic between them, and Hermione bit her tongue from continuing.

On the article itself, her and Draco's speculations had been right; they heavily speculated on Theo's involvement with Blaise's disappearance and Katie's incident. It even quoted the _Free Press_ 's infamous question, " _who's next?_ " This time, however, it was aimed not at Theo, but at the Ministry. Rather than the author wholly blaming Dumbledore, it used his assumed incompetence to blame the MLE for not stepping in sooner.

 _Given the already questionable state of affairs at the once prestigious school, one must ask why an investigation has not been incited sooner? Recently appointed Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Pius Thicknesse, responded to The Daily Prophet's inquiries Sunday evening, stating "the Ministry is of course very concerned with the happenings at Hogwarts, and everyone in the Department expresses their deepest sympathies to the Zabini and Bell families."_

 _When asked why the MLE has refused to raise an investigation against Mr. Nott, Thicknesse responded "the MLE has been working diligently to follow any leads presented, and recently made a very informative visit to Hogwarts to speak to those involved. Given these new accusations risen against Mr. Nott by the Hogwarts Free Press, the MLE will certainly be continuing their search for the truth."_

 _These responses echo Thicknesses's comments on Mrs. Amelia Bones, Mr. Thicknesse's predecessor as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement who went missing this June under suspicious circumstances. So far, no charges have been brought in her disappearance._

Hermione continued to read, taking notice of the slight shift of wording against the Ministry. It was uncanny to see _The Prophet_ break their hardline pro-Ministry stance, even raising suspicion at their competency.

"Does this mean the Aurors are coming back, you think?" Ron asked, skimming the words over her shoulder.

Harry leaned forward, trying to peek at the page, "what does it say?"

" _The MLE will be continuing their search for the truth,_ " Ron quoted. "It's about the attacks."

Hermione shook her head, thinking about what she saw. Seeing Harry's curious expression, she passed the paper toward him. "Take a look, it's an odd read."

Setting down the fork in his hand, Harry took the paper and began to study it.

"How do you think they got the _Free Press_ articles?" Ron asked, scanning the many faces around them in the Hall.

Hermione shrugged, less than concerned. It seemed like the least important question this raised. Were the Aurors actually going to return? She considered the idea, and couldn't wholly decide either way. The public's response in the next few days would likely answer that question for her. It was more than likely that there would be outrage soon, and the MLE would be forced to step in. Given how well the Ministry had been enforcing their narrative lately though, Hermione couldn't be sure.

She couldn't help but sneak a glance up to the professor's table to gauge Dumbledore's reaction.

He'd seen this coming, hadn't he? Just as Snape had, they'd known the _Prophet_ would comment soon – that they would force the Ministry's hand.

 _Just how far has Dumbledore thought this through?_

* * *

 **Author's Note:** First, for anyone who needs a refresher on the specific plot points mentioned in this chapter; the pouch is from Chapter One, the peek into Blaise's trunk is Chapter Eight, and the _who's next_ article is from Chapter Eleven. Thanks everyone again for reading, following, and commenting. I hope by now everyone knows how much I appreciate their company in solving this mystery.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Tuesday, November 19, 1996**

There were only three girls left on Hermione's _Honeysuckle Possibilities_ list, and only one on Draco's. She'd been making steady progress since the search started a few weeks ago. It had only been a few days since she'd checked off a seventh year Ravenclaw, Arabella Alcott, who's interest in Arithmancy research heavily outweighed that of wizards.

Hermione knew that one of the remaining names could surely be the one, but – she was nervous. Only two pureblood girls were left. In time, Hermione had replayed each conversation and eventually begun to doubt herself. Had she possibly overlooked some clue? Had she read too far and ruled out the right girl – with _Honeysuckle_ standing right in front of her?

Draco was still dead set that Lisa Turpin was Blaise's girl, and Hermione couldn't convince him otherwise. Ideally, Hermione could find undeniable proof of Blaise's actual girlfriend and Draco would just believe her, but that was unlikely. It seemed that Draco would need rock solid evidence from Turpin herself before he would consider anyone else.

 _He's illogical,_ Hermione thought, shaking her head. They both knew Turpin was a muggleborn, and he just refused to see reason! As though Draco had just forgotten centuries of prejudice and class divides – Hermione wouldn't forget herself so quickly.

She'd done the readings on pureblood aristocracy. She'd seen the sneers in Diagon Alley. She'd heard the insults these very boys had tossed around the halls, mirth shining in their eyes. Hermione knew better, and she wasn't letting Draco's shortsighted conclusions throw her off.

So Hermione hadn't exactly been _ignoring_ Turpin as a possibility, but she certainly wasn't tracking her down for answers. The girl was a dead end, and Hermione had better things to focus on.

It would be nice to prove Draco wrong though. She wouldn't lift her nose at an opportunity.

It was early evening when Hermione was walking back from the Black Lake, book in hand. The previous hour had been spent in a favored spot of hers, reading under a tree with the sounds of water lapping nearby. Hermione had needed to shut off her mind for a while, step away from everything. It was a chill evening. She'd yet to see another student walking the grounds. So, even though her mind was still wrapped up with the words she'd just read, her eyes snapped to a small figure exiting the castle.

Hermione continued her trek, watching as the female figure quickly materialized in the distance. Billowing robes, brown hair, short stature, blue tie.

Squinting, she tried making out any features. The girl almost looked like she was old enough to be in Hermione's year. Her hair whipped in the light breeze, revealing her small face –

 _Lisa Turpin!_

Well – proving Draco wrong wasn't at the top of her _to-do_ list this evening, but how was she to turn down such a chance?

Hermione slowed her step, trying to keep her eyes off Lisa's advancing form. She wanted to feel inconspicuous, surreptitious. Out of the corner of her eye she watched the other girl's hurried steps, waiting until they were close enough. When Lisa was close to passing her, Hermione raised her head to meet shiny eyes.

"Lisa?" Hermione stopped walking, facing her head on. "Oh my – is everything okay?"

Lisa took a shuddering breath and stopped. Her shoulders were quivering and her head was turned, refusing to meet Hermione's gaze.

"Oh, uh," Lisa raised her eyes. "Hermione."

She nodded and began to walk past Hermione again.

"Lisa," Hermione put a hand on her arm, hoping to keep her from leaving. "Is everything okay?"

Feeling like an intruder, Hermione watched as Lisa tried to collect herself. She was still faced away, looking off into the Black Lake. After a few seconds her shoulders slumped and a hand raised to wipe tears from her face. Lisa turned back looking flushed and tight lipped.

"I'm just," she paused. "I'm just stressed." Lisa gave a watery smile, undoubtedly faked.

Hermione couldn't decide what to say, and was silent for a moment in thought. The emotion was clear across Lisa's face.

"Well, I'm certainly familiar with the feeling." Hermione glanced at the castle quickly, wanting to make sure no one was coming. "Do you want to talk?"

"Oh, no." Lisa shook her head. "No, I'm sure you're busy, I'll be fine." As if to deny her own point, Lisa's hand raised to wipe another tear with the hem of her robes.

Hermione smiled, trying to look thoughtful and open. "I've got time, really. I was just out here reading." She raised the book in her hand as evidence.

"Are you sure, really?"

"Of course," Hermione nodded. Even though she was confident Lisa wasn't _Honeysuckle,_ she still wanted to make sure the other girl was okay. Lisa was so rarely someone Hermione had taken notice of, but she'd always seemed so collected. Once again Hermione was reminded of the vast lives at Hogwarts that never crossed her mind. If she was as stressed as she said – well, good thing Hermione knew a lot about time management.

Lisa agreed, and Hermione led her back to the spot by the lake.

They sat in silence for a moment. Hermione couldn't be sure what to say. Lisa was still collecting herself, taking deep breaths and wiping tears.

When the silence was growing tiresome for Hermione, she looked back to Lisa. "So what's stressing you? Is it exams, friends, family?"

Lisa shook her head a bit, still not meeting Hermione's eyes.

"I can't – " Lisa took a deep breath. "Things have just been piling up lately and I can't stop it. There's nothing I can _do._ "

"What's been piling up?"

"It's been a few things, and," Lisa paused again. "And m – my boyfriend, he – " Lisa cut herself off again, sealing her lips with a firm shake of the head. "I can't talk to my friends, and they can tell something is wrong – I just can't _do_ anything! They don't understand, and they're pulling away – everyone's pulling away. I'm failing and there's nothing I can do about it!"

Tears welled again in Lisa's eyes, spilling with abandon.

"Lisa, you can talk to me. I can be impartial." Hermione furrowed her brow, hoping she looked comforting. "Everyone needs someone to talk to."

"No – I, I cant tell anyone. I just want a _break._ "

"I can try to help you Lisa, I can." At Lisa's firm shake of her head, Hermione continued. "I wont tell anyone, you know that."

By now Hermione was intrigued. Something was clearly going on with this _boyfriend._ Blaise or not, Hermione wanted to make sure Lisa was okay. Wizards could cause hurt in ways other than going missing.

If it was Blaise though, and Draco was right, Hermione was going to be pissed.

They went back and forth a few more times as Hermione tried to coax an answer from Lisa. Whatever it was clearly weighed on the witch. So determined to keep the secret, it was a couple minutes before she finally acquiesced.

"I'm drowning – choking, and there's nothing I can do." Lisa looked at Hermione, fear shining in her teary eyes. "Are you _sure_? It's just – Hermione, this needs to stay between us, like _really_ between us."

Hermione nodded. "Of course, yes. This doesn't leave my lips."

Lisa's shoulders shuddered with the weight of another shaky breath. After looking around once more, confirming that they were alone, the girl rested her tearful gaze on Hermione.

Given the circumstance, Hermione was growing concerned for Lisa's safety. _What could make her so afraid?_ This was the tone she'd reserved for common room nights with Ron and Harry, long after everyone had gone to sleep. This was the tone she'd shared with Draco after Theo had flayed open her mind, out of sheer desperation for comfort. This wasn't a tone Hermione took lightly.

"Some of the Slytherins, some of the other students, they're _death eaters_." The grave look on Lisa's face kept Hermione from deflating in defeat. _Was this it?_ Hermione had been struggling with that news all term. It wasn't exactly groundbreaking.

"How do you know that?"

"My boyfriend told me about it, and he – I really believe him."

"Your boyfriend?"

"That's – that's the other thing. You know how Blaise is – " Lisa paused, holding back tears. "He's missing, right?"

Hermione nodded, unforgettably aware of this information.

"I was, well – he was – "

" _Lisa_."

"He's my boyfriend."

 _Now, that was news._

* * *

When Hermione walked Lisa back to the castle nearly an hour later, her mind was hazy with too many swirling thoughts. After a long and _enlightening_ discussion, Hermione had made it clear that Lisa could find her to talk anytime she wanted.

Hermione wished she had someone to talk to as well. Lisa's confession was shaking her understanding of the world. Her mind was at war with this new revelation, and she just couldn't rationalize it.

Draco had been right. Lisa Turpin, a muggleborn, was _Honeysuckle._ Against all odds, and even logic itself, Draco had been right.

It was – well it was bloody ridiculous! She felt cheated by her own mind. How could she have been so stubbornly resolute? Theo had said something about the girl being _unsuitable,_ didn't he? Theo had _told_ her, and she'd ignored him. Why hadn't she taken that clue when it came? It was as though her mind had selectively chosen to disregard that information. It was illogical when paired with all her experience in the wizarding world this far, and therefore – unimportant.

If Lisa hadn't been so completely overwhelmed with fear and uncertainty, Hermione might have disregarded her confession as well. Instead, she had sympathized. The space between the Slytherin dungeons and the rest of Hogwarts was widening into an impassable chasm, and Lisa had found herself torn between two cliffs. Hermione was growing familiar with that feeling – of being split.

Certainly her and Draco were different, but she had begun to see him in a new light. She had begun to see him as a _person._

They had even had this conversation – hadn't they? Hermione had said something about _knobs,_ absolutely adamant that Blaise wouldn't stray from the pureblood flock. And Draco, unlike her, able to trust his own brain, had been adamant that they shouldn't be so sure. _Managing one's emotions is a tricky business._

Every pureblood elitist in Hogwarts was practically flashing a neon sign saying it was possible, and Hermione had just ignored each one. She had become so entrenched in Harry's world of black and white that she'd forgotten to see the grey.

Life was grey. Love was grey. War was _grey._

Maybe she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, but surely it was possible that the indoctrinated could overcome their purism?

Her and Draco weren't in love by any stretch, but he had warmed to her, a _muggleborn._ That wretched mark was seared on his arm, but he still wrapped it around her in bed.

But Blaise didn't have that mark. Not if Lisa was to be believed.

His indoctrination had apparently been less fervent.

And, well, that made sense. Theo, Goyle, Pansy – they knew what he was doing behind closed doors, and he was being punished for it. Purism was alive and well, whether one rich boy strayed from the dungeons or not.

Class structure still existed. Purism still existed. _Voldemort_ still existed.

But they had been defied, and Hermione hadn't been able to wrap her mind around it. It just hadn't _fit._

She was a logical person. She liked empirical evidence and proof and structure and realism. Her devotion to practicality had blinded her to something _Draco Malfoy_ had been able to see.

It was an unsettling thought.

Was a _death eater_ more willing to believe in the power of love than her? Was a boy raised in the burn of hatred and bigotry at his fellow wizards able to better see the good in people than her?

Draco Malfoy had wished her to die; had thrown slurs like knives; had hated her for something as mere as her _birth._ Yet, Draco Malfoy could see the bridge between good and evil, and she could not.

Hermione would just have to rethink some things. Yes, that was it. She would have to _reconsider_ a few details of the world. Things just weren't as stark as she thought. Maybe not everything was black and white.

Maybe two people could cross that divide if they really tried.

* * *

 **Thursday, November 21, 1996**

"Pretty soon you'll be downright _good_ at that."

"I've never _not_ been good at it. I'm afraid you're mistaken."

"Unless you're performing it on yourself, your input doesn't matter."

"I'm just saying, you always give me an _O._ "

Hermione scoffed, turning her head to the side, allowing him the sight of her indignance. Locks of brown hair swept over her shoulder, and Draco knew they were gentler than they looked.

"I take what I can get."

Draco rolled onto his side, propping his head with one cocked arm. The soft sheet slipped from his chest, revealing his skin once more to the girl resting beside him.

Hermione had been trying to get him alone for a couple days now, but Theo's warning had left Draco's mind fogged with fear and uncertainty all week. He hadn't quite decided what he was going to do.

Theo was probably right. Draco should stop seeing Hermione and save himself the trouble. Somehow though, she had grown to become a trouble he didn't mind. The whole situation made his throat swollen and chest heavy. Maintaining a public relationship with her seemed impossible, but for some reason, telling her to leave wasn't an option either.

What was there to do? He wanted to keep seeing her, to keep hearing about her petty annoyances and watching her face flush at the excitement of some clue, but he couldn't see an option that didn't involve the death of someone he loved. What an idiot he had become – running his fingers along fire and begging not to be burnt.

The two of them had grown complacent in their hidden indiscretion, but things were a hairsbreadth away from tumbling. Seeing her peaceful expression, Draco found himself envying her. Hermione didn't know what was coming. She hadn't harbored that weight as he had.

Draco wanted to be selfish for just a while longer. His stomach rolled at the thought of telling Hermione what to expect in the morning, but he had no choice. Hermione wasn't likely risking death as he was, but Draco knew she would face backlash just as well. Mere hours were left until they wouldn't have their bubble of secret deviance and respite, and Draco wanted to savor what remained.

"Yes," he mused, his other hand moving to rest flat on the plane between Hermione's hips. "You do seem to _take_ very well." His hand slipped slowly lower, reveling in the peachy soft skin there.

Hermione's lips parted in a puff of air as his fingers dropped low enough. Draco watched her head push toward him ever so slightly. He felt the soft brush of her hair against his cheek. He felt her hot mouth reach his skin. He felt his blood quicken to her bared teeth pressing against his shoulder.

Draco quickened his fingers and smiled. Hermione's lack of rebuttal was the closest he would ever get to a concession. Stuttered breaths surrounded a small whine right below his ear. Draco dropped his mouth to her stretched neck, feeling the heavy blush there.

Nipping her soft skin, Draco could too easily image that she tasted like freedom – like rebellion from the life laid before him. Kissing Hermione was exactly the wrong thing to do, but it felt too right to stop.

"Ah – wait," she stammered. "I – I have news." Her teeth bit a wide mark into his shoulder, and Draco mournfully returned his hand to her hip. Hermione continued, " _Honeysuckle._ I know who she is, I talked to her."

Draco whipped his eyes to hers at the words.

"You _talked_ to her?" He sat up in his bed, resting his back against the still-warm pillows. "And you're _just now_ sharing this with me, almost an hour after getting here?" Draco knit his brows in annoyance. "It's Lisa – isn't it?"

Hermione raised herself to sit aside him. "Yes, well. We've been otherwise engaged for all but thirty seconds since I arrived." Turning to face him, she rested her bare legs across his and pulled the thin sheet across her lap.

Draco watched in silence, waiting with impatience clear on his face.

"Yes – Blaise was dating Lisa." Hermione held her chin up at the admittance. She narrowed her eyes and dared a challenge, but all Draco gave in return was a smug grin.

" _Anyways,_ I talked to her. She was just _– terrified_ for Blaise."

"Does she know what happened? I must admit, I tend to fear murder as well."

"That was the thing! She was so sure he's coming back. I asked her why she wasn't telling anyone and she just kept saying she didn't want him returning to that."

"Returning to what?"

"To everyone know – _here,_ Draco." Hermione reached aside them to find his wand, and he immediately snapped it from her reach.

" _Excuse me,"_ Draco whispered, eyes wide as he gripped the wand.

Holding another wizard's wand was an incredibly intimate thing, and Draco wasn't ready to let anyone have that kind of power over him.

"Calm down, Draco. Just look at my memory of talking to her, this is going to take too long."

But that – that was intimate too.

It seemed drawing lines with Hermione was becoming an impossible task. Wands seemed like a minimal risk when he remembered how much of their minds they'd shared with one another. She'd let him in, if accidentally, and he had seen the crushing fears and overwhelming joys that had marked time in her life. He'd shown her, if under duress, some of his most painful anguishes.

Maybe he could have toed the Slytherin line and revealed less when she demanded those moments, but he hadn't. She had demanded _personal_ and _painful,_ and he'd given her just that. If anything, Draco had learned with Hermione that it was easier to just give her what she wanted. It was infuriating and futile to try denying her when she knew she was right. So he'd shown her the two people in his life who'd hurt him the most; Pansy and Lucius. His closest friend and his father.

His father's actions were par for the course in any family like his, but that moment with Pansy was a calculated reveal. He'd chopped the memory up a bit, blurred some of what Pansy had truly said, but the gist had been clear enough. Pansy had stripped him of any childish notions of grandeur. The one person he'd counted as a confidante had taken him to task, no holds barred, and had been largely right.

Hermione knew things about him that his oldest friends might struggle to connect.

It felt as though Draco's tongue seemed to swell in his mouth.

She had reached for his wand so he could hold it against her. Hermione was _trusting_ him – purposefully opening up her mind to him. Boulders sat on his chest, compressing his lungs. The words slipped in an instant. Holding them back wasn't an option.

"Actually – Hermione, I talked to Theo the other day."

Her spine straightened, pulling her shoulders back. Her eyes were bright and searching, torn between hope and fear. "You _what_? What did he say?"

"That the thing – Hermione." Something was lodged heavy in his throat. Draco shook his head and tried to cough, unable to wholly meet her eyes. "Theo told me he knows about us, and he's going to tell the school."

"He – he what?" She seemed to shrink into herself. Her shoulders dropped. Her knees lifted off his. Her face fell. "He's going to –"

"I think it'll happen in the morning. In the _Free Press._ "

" _In the morning?_ " Hermione took a shuddering breath. In one quick, instinctual movement, Hermione's forehead fell against his chest, her arms clutching him. "Oh, God."

Draco wanted to detach from the moment. He wanted to have an out of body experience and just float away, leaving his corporeal being to handle this without him.

That didn't seem to be an option.

His arms felt heavy as they raised to encircle her. Draco couldn't decide what to do. This was incredibly new territory for them – comfort. He raised an arm to run his fingers through her frizzy hair, pulling through the strands.

They sat in silence for a while. Draco had no idea how much time had passed. For a while the absence seemed never ending, like it would follow him forever. Eventually he felt her chest fall deeper and slower against him. The cold splash of her tears faded.

"What – what are we going to do?" She whispered against his skin, her voice rough.

"I don't know if there's anything we _can_ do."

Draco wasn't ready for her to pull away just yet. He rested his cheek against the pillow of her hair.

"How can we just – just let him do that? Why _now_?"

"Did you see the _Prophet_ piece about him a few days ago? It didn't come out of nowhere, he's in a corner."

He could feel Hermione shake her head, but they both knew he was right.

Draco continued, hoping to share the stoicism he'd gained in the last week. "We talked about this before, that he's doing anything he can to protect himself. If he thinks this will take the eyes off him…"

"How could we be so _stupid,_ as if he would just forget. I knew what he saw in my memories, _merlin,_ I should have done something."

" _Hermione,_ we didn't think this was his plan. We did what we thought was right at the time. Now we have to do what we think is right now." Draco let out a heavy breath. He wasn't sure how he felt now. He should have known Hermione wasn't the type to just swallow this like he had. She wanted to fight, to take Theo down with them.

"I have to do something. I have to –"

"Yes. You have to study, and go to class, and eat. In the morning – just, eat quickly. Be prepared for a rough day. That's all you have to do."

"I have to find Theo – he's coming here. This is his room! Good, I'll stop him! Draco, I need my sweater." She pulled herself up, her eyes darting frantically between the curtains of his bed.

" _Hermione,_ you can't just attack him in this dorm. First of all, there's no way the _Free Press_ doesn't already have the whole story quilled and printed, ready for the morning."

"Then, then I can find them. I can find whoever's behind it, and stop them before the morning!"

"Really? You've got roughly seven hours, and everyone in this castle is asleep in their _locked_ dorms."

"Creevey! Yes, Creevey." Hermione nodded. "He's in Gryffindor, he gave them photos. _Oh, God_ they might have photos."

Draco's mouth pulled into a tight sneer. "Yes, that's a possibility."

"I can't think about this. I _need_ to not think about this." Hermione filled her lungs rapidly as she started pulling away from him. "This is all I'm going to think about for the rest of term, if not the year. _Oh, god._ I need to think about something else right now." She leaned back, having now separated the two of them. Hermione allowed herself to bury her head in her hands for only a moment before raising herself to meet Draco's eyes once more.

Draco nodded, familiar with the feeling.

"Turpin?"

Hermione shook her head in annoyance, and Draco could see she was still reeling with anxiety for the morning ahead.

"Yes – yes. I'll just show you the memory, that's simpler."

Draco's mouth was already open to respond when an idea struck him.

"Why don't you hide it? I haven't helped you practice Occlumency recently." _And soon you'll really need it._

Hermione nodded. Her mind was still far away from the discussion at hand, but they both knew how consuming Occlumency could become.

"Fine, just," Hermione seemed to fortify herself on sheer force of will alone. "Do it."

Draco raised his wand.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I don't love the idea of cutting the chapter right here, but that was the best option short of doubling the length. So the next chapter picks up right about where this leaves off.

Now: To those who came for mystery - what a chapter! to those who came for romance - what a chapter! As you guys (hopefully) can see, this was a very important chapter for a few reasons. Thanks so much to everyone who's reading/following/favoriting/reviewing. On we go!


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Thursday, November 21, 1996**

At first Draco just encountered the white wall, as he expected.

Hermione had grasped the basics, but he still needed to temper his own efforts when they practiced. He easily pushed beyond the wall and into her mind.

Draco found himself glancing around the Hogwarts library. It seemed to be late in the evening. Hermione was there, scribbling something on parchment while half-glancing at an open book. Dreary silence permeated the scene, and Draco realized she was probably alone. It was a façade.

He tried pushing forward to more recent memories. Hermione had sent him a hasty note Tuesday evening demanding to meet, and he assumed she must have seen Lisa just before.

The image blurred around him before Draco began to recognize the Hogwarts corridor around him. Edges of his vision lost clarity when he focused on Hermione. She was walking down the hall, infernal book bag slung over one shoulder. Draco seemed to have just noticed the students milling around her. They had appeared in a snap.

Across the hall, a clear vision of Lisa Turpin emerged. Her face was flushed pink, her hair windswept. Other students between her and Hermione swam like water in Draco's mind's eye. Hermione waded through the crowd simply, failing to bustle against the packed mass, almost floating on air. Lisa's face suddenly jolted from abject distress to complete neutrality. Her face lost the flush, her mouth suddenly a thin line. Lisa's eyes jumped as though coming to life, shooting in Hermione's direction.

Draco's head was beginning to ache at the image.

Hermione was trying to craft an artificial memory without any underlying truth. It was almost excruciating to see. She had clearly not tried this much, and it made his head swim to look at. Hermione had clearly exceeded the abilities of most in Occlumency, especially with her limited training, but Draco could tell they had a long ways to go.

He pulled back, hoping he could focus on something permanent without the world blurring around him. It took only a moment to see Hermione's face again, now with her surroundings crystal clear.

He recognized the Black Lake immediately. Hermione sat rigidly in the grass, a novel clutched in her two hands. He could see her faked sympathetic front, exaggeratedly furrowed brow and turned down lips.

Noticing her face, Draco knew instinctively that this was her true memory with Lisa. It was hard to imagine any witch picturing herself that way, with such false features. Surely Hermione hadn't noticed how poorly she played sympathetic.

The other girl was near hysterical. Tears ran down her face in quick streams. Her breathing jumped in hiccupping gasps. A heavy rose color flushed her face.

"I – I would tell everyone! The aurors, Dumbledore, anyone! But I need to do this – I need to help him."

Hermione shook her head, watching in confusion.

"Then Lisa, why haven't you told anyone?"

"Because it's better for him. I know what his mother believes, what his friends believe, I'd be risking his life! What happens when he comes back – and then everyone knows? I can't make that decision for him. I can't make any of this worse for him."

"Did you tell the aurors when they visited, at least?"

"No! I can't tell anyone, the best thing for Blaise is to keep us a secret. It's the best thing to keep him safe!"

"But what if you can help everyone find him? Surely you know more about what Blaise was thinking than Dumbledore or Snape did?"

"If I knew anything – anything I thought could help, I would have already told someone. I just know what he thought about Arithmancy, and his morning coffee, his friends – nothing that would help! I don't know where he is – I wish I did. I just wish I knew he was safe."

"Lisa, I really think it might help if you came forward. It's possible even the smallest thing can help find him."

"No! I can't! Hermione – you can't tell anyone what I said! Blaise told me himself that we needed to keep it a secret for now, at least until after graduation. And Theo told me – "

Hermione's posture went rigid, her eyes widening. "Theo talked to you?"

"He came to see me after Blaise – after he – he disappeared. He said the same thing, to keep this all secret, that it will help Blaise!"

"I don't know if that's true, Lisa. Anything about Blaise might just be a small clue to where he is," Hermione seemed to squirm before speaking again, almost spitting out the words, "to finding him."

"No – Theo's right, Blaise is right! If his mother, if the other Slytherins, if anyone finds out – Blaise is under so much pressure, things would get so much worse for him! I know what you're thinking – that Theo didn't like us together, and I know that. I know he didn't!"

"Lisa – "

"No, I know he wanted Blaise to break up with me, but he was looking out for Blaise! He just – he has his own way of showing it."

"What kind of pressure was Blaise under?"

"They – they wanted him to take it. He didn't over the summer and ev – everyone else did."

"Take what?"

"The – the, Godric, the mark! That disgusting, horrible mark! He didn't want to take it, he didn't!"

"But he didn't end up taking it, did he?"

"No! They've been trying to convince him, I know they have. He said everyone in Slytherin was trying to convince him. He told me about the others, that other boys have marks! It's like – like some sick fraternity for them!"

Hermione's spine straightened again, leaning her forward.

"Who, Lisa? Who all did he say has the mark?"

"He wouldn't tell me. I just – I couldn't take knowing. They're in our classes, they – they eat in the Hall with us! It's not a game anymore, Hermione, these boys want us dead! Me and you and Justin and – and they want us gone!"

Words clogged his ears as the image blurred. Draco had to pull back – distance himself from the memory. He focused for a moment on maintaining enough balance to remain in Hermione's memory, but not listen to the discussion therein. He knew Hermione would likely sense his hesitation, but for a moment it wasn't important. It was cowardly, but he couldn't do it – couldn't force himself to hear what was said.

Draco soon began to feel Hermione's own mental hesitation in response, and he returned to the memory. Hopefully he could avoid discussing that specific revelation.

The other girl had grown some degree of calm once again. Her breathing was calmer and slower, but her face still colored with a heavy pink.

"Did – did Blaise often spend large amounts of money?" When the other girl's face scrunched in confusion, Hermione amended herself. "I just want to make sure there really isn't anything the aurors should know. I won't tell anyone, Lisa. I promised."

"I don't – no, I don't think so? He told me he was saving money a while ago. It was only a few times, but – he talked about leaving the country after Hogwarts. I was hesitant, we're only sixteen! I wasn't willing to just agree to leave my entire family. I don't know, we haven't talked about it since."

"He talked about leaving England?"

"He – he didn't want to deal with _you know who._ I – I had mentioned joining the Order, of fighting back! He was just so _worried,_ but my family! I didn't even think – I didn't tell him how I really felt! I couldn't leave my family here – to deal with this!"

Hermione's brow furrowed in a fleeting thought.

"Where did he want to go?"

"I – I think he mentioned the continent? I know his family has ties in Italy? He tried t – to mention places to me but I wouldn't listen!" Lisa's tears sped in rivulets down her cheeks. " _Merlin,_ he might think I don't want to be with him – that I'll make him fight his friends!"

"Lisa, I'm sure he understood."

"I still need to tell him though – I won't make him fight like they will. I need him to know."

"Trying to make him fight?" Hermione's lips twisted. "What was going on with him and the other Slytherins – with Theo?"

"They – " The girl looked away from Hermione to take another shuddering breath, barely keeping herself calm. "Blaise didn't want to fight, he _told_ me that. Theo didn't believe him, I think. Blaise didn't always want me to know what Theo said, he – he would just tell me the gist."

"But you said Theo came to you, that he talked to you after Blaise disappeared?"

"I was so scared, and I couldn't decide what to do. Theo – he talked to me and told me to keep everything quiet. It's better for Blaise, I know it is. Theo might not have my best interests, but he has Blaise's."

"When did he talk to you?"

"Right after Dumbledore's announcement." Lisa gave a dainty sniffle and wiped her eyes again before continuing. "Theo – he came to see me near the tower. I was so freaked out, I couldn't listen to anything he said. He found me walking out of the common room, and I think I just started sobbing right there."

"But he spoke to you then?"

Lisa shook her head. "No, he found me again later. I th – thought he followed me out of the Great Hall one night, he just came up to me when I was alone."

Hermione frowned at the recollection, no doubt thinking of Theo's penchant for stalking muggleborns in the corridors.

"I asked him if he knew – knew where Blaise was, but he didn't," Lisa continued.

"Did he come to you again?"

"No, but I tried to find him once. I was so worried about Blaise, I was doubting myself, thinking I should tell Dumbledore." Lisa sunk her head to rest in her hands. "I tried to talk to Theo and make sure we were doing the right thing. I couldn't get him alone – he always looked so stressed."

Hermione's lips narrowed into a thin line.

Draco watched as Hermione tried to coax more information from the girl, but it seemed to grow fruitless. Lisa seemed to waver between bouts of determined silence and raving tear-streaked fear. Sensing the most pertinent moments had been shown, Draco pulled himself from Hermione's memory.

Back in the shadows of Draco's curtained bed, Hermione was looking distant. Her vacant eyes made it clear to Draco that she had yet to join him outside of her mind.

He waited a moment before speaking, allowing the heavy silence to reverberate around them.

"You were right – she's determined that he's coming back to Hogwarts."

Hermione hummed in the affirmative.

Draco watched as she scanned the bed, eyes eventually landing on her crumpled sweater. She reached for it. Quickly, she pulled the fabric over her head. Her milky skin was now covered in grey wool and crimson trim.

"Do you think she was right about Blaise being so anti-purism?" Draco tried to quell the look of distaste on his face as he coaxed her again. Purism wasn't a foreign concept to him, but his own feelings on the matter were still grey. Few purebloods Draco knew of were so decidedly against the rest. To see that Blaise had taken the path less traveled forced Draco to reconcile that it was possible – but it just might have gotten him killed.

Hermione blinked, life returning dimly to her face.

"I think so. She seemed to really believe what she was telling me."

"And that he wanted to possibly leave for the continent? That's new."

Hermione's eyes flicked to him now. "Yes – yes that was interesting. Any common investigator would see that as the first sign of someone purposefully running away. It shows that – " Hermione paused, furrowing her brow. "It's evidence that they had motive to leave."

Draco mulled over the idea.

"Are you saying Blaise left Hogwarts of his own accord?"

Hair flitted over her shoulder as she shook her head. "I'm saying I don't know what happened anymore. Theo still looks overwhelmingly good for murder, but Blaise was less than the perfect victim."

Draco found himself recalling what Theo had said to him the week before. _You and Blaise can't seem to keep it in your trousers, even knowing the consequences._

It was a warning, Draco had known. If Theo really did show Blaise the _consequences,_ then he likely was letting Draco know what was coming.

He sneered at the thought. _How utterly unsubtle_.

"If Theo killed Blaise – then last week he threatened to kill me too."

Hermione's eyes widened rapidly, her face flushing with life. The entirety of her spirit seemed to rush into her body in just that moment, filling her up, raising her chest, straightening her spine.

"He _what_?"

Still sneering, Draco explained. "When he was telling me to stop seeing you, and that he was going to tell everyone. He said _you and Blaise can't seem to keep it in your trousers, even knowing the consequences._ If he was referencing Blaise's disappearance, it was a very disappointing threat."

Hermione's face brightened even more. "Theo threatened your _life,_ told you he was outing us – and you waited a _week_ to tell me?"

"Well, aren't we a bit presumptuous?" Draco cocked his brow, feeling defensive.

"Draco – I have kept you up to date with _everything_ I learned about Blaise." She shook her head in apparent exasperation. "And this concerns me too! A week ago I might have been able to _do_ something – to stop the _Free Press_ from printing this rubbish!"

Draco bit his tongue. He shouldn't have said anything at all.

"I was working some things out. Would you rather have spent the last week walking on eggshells? I did what was best at the time – I can't _change_ that."

"This is why you were acting so _odd_ last week! You knew when we met in that classroom and you _didn't tell me!_ I asked you point blank if something had happened. What did you _think_ I was asking for?"

"Look – Hermione. You couldn't have done anything about Theo. If he really did threaten my life – which, might I remind you, you were just speculating that Blaise might have left on his own, then there was nothing you could have done about it." Draco tipped his nose upward, annoyed at her outburst. "If he had half a brain, the story had already been written and proofread before he warned me." He allowed condescension to creep unbidden into his words. Draco was not a fan of having his decisions questioned.

Red was spreading down Hermione's collarbones now, lowering over her chest. Her face showed an anger Draco couldn't recall the last time he'd seen. Ire rolled off her warm skin in vibrating waves.

"Draco Malfoy – you ignorant _rat._ Do you think me an incompetent buffoon?" Breath puffed from her lips in short jolts. "I have proven myself a competent witch before, and given more than six hours to sunrise, I might have been able to quell the whole issue." Her eyes narrowed in barely contained fury at him. "Do not _dare_ to presume you have some knowledge of my abilities. Killer or not – Theodore Nott would _not_ have bested me."

Draco's hands balled to fists. Nails pressed roughly into his palms. His pulse was quickening, blood thundering in his ears.

"Courageous to a fault – ready to jump naked from my bed to search him out. If that's how you plan to confront a possible death, how can you question my caution? I could have chosen to not tell you at all, is that your preference in the future? Your _obstinacy_ and your _impulsivity_ only prove my choice right. "

Hermione crossed her arms as she stared him down.

"I was going to grab a sweater, don't you misinterpret me. With more _time_ my actions might have more grounding, however that is not the case." Her tone lowered into a measured, timed beat before picking up again with boiling anger. "I _will not_ stand by and allow some arrogant – spoiled – _miscreant_ to treat students lives and minds as his personal playground!"

Draco could feel himself nearing the point of yelling. He locked his jaw with great control and tried forcing rationality back into his mind.

"We are not going to _row_ over the content of Theo's behavior." Draco took a heavy breath, keeping his eyes hard on Hermione's. "I told you tonight. Feel how you will about it – it won't change that fact."

Draco watched as she scrutinized him. He had an idea of what she'd see. Unlike her he'd yet to cover himself from their earlier romp, only the soft sheet laid over his thighs. His chest was exposed, one foot propped up to rest flat by his other knee. Heavy and cool, he could feel the sweat now drying from the roots of his hair.

Hermione still looked just as mussed, her unbound chest bouncing underneath her loose sweater. Cheeks still flushed from her rushing anger, her lips were a ripe pink.

" _You_ are – "

Draco was decidedly sure that she was intending to row again. Cutting her off, he leaned forward on his arms and trapped her lips with his.

Her soft mouth seared against his. Her teeth nipped harshly at his lip and he returned the favor. Her breath released hot against his cheek. Draco forced his tongue forward, allowing his simmering anger to spill over between them.

Hermione seemed to feel the same – gripping her hands hard into his shoulders. The numb ache grounded Draco – focusing him on properly releasing his wrath. He pulled Hermione into his lap, them separated only by the sheet. Her knees framed his hips.

Eventually he pulled away, dropping his mouth to her neck as they still gripped one another.

"Are you done yet?" Draco finished with a wide, dull bite into the base of her neck.

Hermione pulled herself further back, balancing on his lap. Her eyes bore into his own as she allowed the silence to still the both.

"If you have any intention of keeping up this – this," Hermione paused, pursing her lips in search of a word. " _This,_ ever again – you will share pertinent information with me in a timely manner."

Draco considered calling her presumptuous again. Somehow it seemed like that wouldn't give him a desirable outcome. Instead he withheld any reply, leaning back to rest his shoulders against the bedframe. One hand laid flat upon her smooth thigh as he waited for the indignance of her expression to soften.

"So – did Theo do it or not?"

Hermione thoroughly inspected his face before speaking again.

"I'm not sure either way." Her shoulders dropped as the fight seemed to drain entirely from her skin. "On one hand; he's incredibly aggressive, his distaste with Blaise was incredibly clear, he lashed out at me for investigating Blaise, he _threatened_ you, and didn't he say something to Pansy about this?

Draco thought for a second before responding, " _something was going to happen eventually_. That's what Theo and Goyle were saying."

Hermione nodded. "Yes – that's it. Merlin, I need a list to keep this all straight." Her mouth puckered in a distasteful expression. "Who can you trust if not your own mind?"

Draco snorted at the thought. _Hermione Granger's Neatly Organized and Color-Coded Guide to Solve a Murder._

"On the other hand; Blaise was behaving weirdly right before the disappearance, he talked about leaving the continent, and there's no _real_ evidence against Theo.

"None of those are very credible alibis." He paused. "If Blaise was as serious about Lisa as those notes made it seem, wouldn't he have taken her with him?"

"They did sound – _smitten._ " Hermione picked at the hem of her sweater. "But no – Lisa said he wanted her to go with him, and she refused."

"If I was him, I'd try again. If you're that serious about a witch, wouldn't you want to be absolutely sure she had no interest in joining?"

The corners of Hermione's lips turned down.

"I don't know."

Her eyes snapped up to Draco, her fingers dropping her sweater.

"Why does Theo want to out us?"

Draco felt his pulse pick up at the question.

He had an idea of why Theo wanted to air his dirty laundry – Theo had told him right there in the library. However, the truth involved another character entirely that Draco had no want to explain to Hermione.

"Because he's angry I'm seeing someone he finds _unsuitable._ "

"He found Lisa just as unsuitable as me, but practically demanded her to keep quiet."

 _Because Blaise hasn't committed his life to the cause._

"Is it possible that Blaise just got a firmer punishment than I will?"

Hermione frowned at the thought. "This is just – it's bullshit. Purism – killing people over love, and purism."

Draco couldn't bring himself to answer her. Images of his summer at home and the plan laid for next term made his stomach turn and his chest tighten. The thought of her ever being exposed to those realities was a staunch image that he couldn't face.

Hermione continued thinking, failing to question his silence.

Draco was too distracted to be relieved, trying to question when he had become _ashamed_ of his life's commitment. Draco Malfoy was a purist. It wasn't a secret. To some, it might even be his most defining feature. He had never hidden the fact. As a Malfoy he outranked nearly the entire wizarding world – and he wouldn't even question the same for the muggle world.

And yet – how could he dare justify himself to Hermione Granger, egalitarian extraordinaire?

He couldn't.

"He didn't say anything when he threatened you – anything that would make this different than Blaise and Lisa?"

Draco knew his _task_ was likely the reason, but he saw no dire need to tell Hermione that.

"No – he told me I was a fool and had brought the consequences on myself. He said that he needed the pressure off himself for a while though – that the scrutiny was too much."

He watched as the words seemed to press at the seam of her lips, barely contained. _Show me._

"For all I know that might be it," he continued. "The pressure wasn't on him yet, and now it is."

Hermione thinned her lips and studied his face. Draco maintained the cool, detached mask she would expect to find.

Soon she began to blink, eventually bringing her hands to rub her eyes. "It's some ungodly hour, isn't it?"

Draco watched as the exhaustion seemed to sink over her, coating her skin. "That's likely, yes."

Her hands stayed shielding her eyes, cradling her head in sweater-socked hands. She sighed deeply, as though the air was trapped in the bottom of her lungs.

"What are we going to do in the morning? At breakfast," she whispered, keeping her head low.

His chest clenched, and no answer seemed appropriate in that moment.

"I – I don't really know."

He sank into the silenced that followed, appreciating the cover of night as they sat in his bed.

"Draco?"

Her tone of complete uncertainty nearly distressed him, and he watched her covered face carefully. He hummed in response, unsure of what to expect.

"Are you planning anything for the morning I should prepare for?" The words were meek and placid – accepting of her possible fate.

He didn't need a clarification.

Draco swallowed the hollow feeling in his chest. It was a fair question.

He hated it.

"No."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This is a completion of the scenes begun in Chapter Fourteen. Quite a few previous chapters are referenced here, but the most prominent would be Chapter Thirteen.

As I continue to write and review my work, I find myself growing as a writer, and often wish I could go back and change even the smallest of details. I am proud of this small story though, as we now near 70,000 words. A quote often comes to mind when I struggle to articulate the perfect _mood_ or _prose_ I want to impart on readers of _It's Casual. "One thing that helps is to give myself permission to write badly." - Lawrence Block._ Not every word is composed with the perfection I might wish for or imagine, but that's not the point. I have crafted dialogue and tone that creates an image of it's own.

I cannot express my appreciation for everyone's enjoyment of this story, and am so glad that others are finding humor or intrigue. Thanks as always to everyone who reads, reviews, follows, and favorites.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Friday, November 22, 1996**

Hermione's stomach rolled the moment she woke up. From the crawl out of bed to her trudge out into the common room, there was nothing else to think of.

She'd risen early, unable to wait through another fit of tossing and turning, and settled herself by the common room fire to wait for her friends. The next few weeks would be lonely, she was sure. A book was splayed open upon her lap, but she couldn't bring herself to read.

The option of whether to tell her friends first rolled back and forth in her mind – no option was ideal. It was also possible that Theo hadn't chosen the _Free Press._ Maybe she had another day or two .

She grimaced.

Hermione _knew_ it was coming today. The _Free Press_ was Theo's ideal choice for immediate dissemination, and it had somehow gained some crumb of credibility since starting.

Maybe if Harry came down first – yes, then she could tell him. She _could._ She would make herself.

Harry – quick tempered as he was – would be the safer option. Hermione had stuck by him through everything, without fail. If she could just try explaining, maybe she could get them to not read the _Press_ at breakfast.

 _Oh, God, the pictures._

Weight pressed heavy upon Hermione's chest as her stomach rolled again.

Her life wouldn't end here – she knew this wouldn't kill her.

She almost wished it would.

Memories of lies slipping past her lips like warm air and disillusionment charms slipping on like old cloaks flitted through her mind. Hermione thought of all the effort she'd spent deceiving her two closest friends, and somehow that made it all the worse.

They would know. Her friends weren't complete idiots, they'd already raised suspicions once this term. They'd see immediately how she'd twisted the situation, daring them to question her. It was time to face the consequences, but Hermione only wanted to run away.

What was she to say? That Draco was some reformed wizard – ready anew to kill his father and stand behind Harry? He wasn't. But he had changed, somehow. Draco joked with her, and listened to her squabbles, and cared when she overworked herself. They were equals.

Hermione enjoyed being with him, talking to him.

It was possible that she'd see him this morning slurring her name and twisting everything they'd done – but she'd believed him last night. She'd asked, and he'd answered.

"You're up early."

Hermione jumped from the couch to turn at the voice, book clutched in her hands.

The stone in her stomach dropped even lower, pulling something in her chest. It was time. She'd have to say something.

"Harry – ", she almost choked, seeing the near concern on his face. "Yes, I couldn't sleep."

"Same."

His eyebrows quirked in question. Years of friendship and late nights had shown them how to speak without words. Hermione knew he was prompting her to continue.

"I just – I have some things on my mind right now. I –", the words lodged in her throat. They wouldn't come out. Her stomach turned and her face went warm.

Harry stepped forward, taking a seat on the couch.

Hermione didn't have a choice. _It's time,_ she told herself. _You did this, you need to face your consequences._

Rigidly, she placed herself back on the couch beside him. "Harry, we – we need to talk." She tried to tune the words as they slipped from her mouth, but they sounded as strangled as they felt. Hermione watched as he remained silent, watching her.

"Harry – I did something, something I was hoping I'd never have to tell you about."

He leaned forward, grasping her forearm in solidarity. Hermione felt worse. Tears nearly spilled. Harry looked so _genuine,_ radiating care and comfort. Everything from the tussle of his black hair to the early morning skew of his glasses to the post shower dew of his skin was so incredibly _him –_ Harry, her best friend.

"But someone else has made that decision for me, and I need you to hear it from me first." Her breaths felt shallower as she thought of what to say. " _God,_ Harry."

"You don't have to tell me," he offered. Concern etched his face, dimly lit in the nearby fire.

The pit in her stomach had reached critical mass, unable to get any lower. Morning had finally struck and her worst nightmares were coming true. She tried to coach herself, wishing she could just buck up. _She'd faced worse! Trolls, dementors, suspected murderers!_ Yet – she'd never had to face the anticipation of disaster before. So often in Hogwarts things had just struck, blinding her with movement and flurrying response. Now the burn of anxiety had settled, and she felt as though it would melt her.

Hermione pulled air deep into her lungs. The stretching in her chest burned, but it hardened her. _Do it._

"No, I do." She shook her head from one side to the other, but she couldn't seem to wake up. The nightmare wouldn't end. "I've been seeing Malfoy, and the _Free Press_ is going to run a story about it today."

The silence that followed was heavy with despair. She kept her eyes low, unable to look her closest friend in the eye. She'd manipulated him, lied to him, deceived him.

Harry gave a weak, disbelieving laugh. "Everyone in this castle has been seeing his face for six years now, I can't imagine why they're singling you out." Harry's voice held the distant hope that Hermione feared having to crush.

"Please don't make me say it," she whispered.

" _You –_ " anger laced thick in his voice, unmistakable. It stopped on a knut, cutting as sharply as it had begun. Palm still on her forearm, she could feel him grasp tighter, trying to ground himself. She understood.

Hermione could hear the heavy air seep from Harry's lungs before he took a shuddering breath. She looked at him now, seeing the tempered rage behind his eyes, seeing the clenched palm holding his thigh.

"Hermione – I need you to help me understand. I want to support you – I love you, but I – ", he cut himself off again as the edge creeped into his carefully measured tone. Harry's voice dropped with rapt tension as he repeated himself, "I need you to help me understand."

What could she say? Nothing – there wasn't any explanation he could understand.

Would he be able to comprehend that the pressure of Draco holding himself against her was euphoric? Would he be able to understand that Draco had become the easiest person for her to talk with, to spill her mind to? Would he be able to separate this from her search for Blaise? Would he be able to deal with the fact that her and Draco might have just started as a casual thing?

Hermione knew he wouldn't – that's why she couldn't explain that her and Draco just might not be casual anymore.

"It's – I don't know. We just – _talked_ one day, without being nasty or mean or fighting, and then we had things in common. It just – I knew it was – " She cut herself off, hearing the word about to pass her lips.

Hermione couldn't say it, that this had been _wrong._ She didn't believe it.

"You don't know what you're saying – this is crazy!" Harry laughed nervously, hopefully. "We need to go see Pomfrey, come on." His palm on her arm gripped now as he started to rise, but she resisted. "I'm sure we can fix this – and we can finally nail Malfoy, I _knew_ he was up to something." Seeing her refuse to stand, his brow furrowed in despaired confusion. "Hermione – come on, I'm sure we can reverse whatever he did."

Tears fell faster now, slipping down her warm cheeks. "Harry, he didn't do anything to me, really. I – I knew what I was doing." Unable to meet his eye, she burrowed her face to her hands, wiping the wetness with the ends of her sweater.

"I knew how you and Ron would feel and I just – I don't know, it was like I was acting outside of reality, or something. It just didn't seem _real._ We just kept meeting up, and every time it was like we just got closer and closer, and we _understood_ each other, like I could look at him and not hold anything back." _And touching him is a rush, and he kisses me with passion, and he sets my skin on fire._

The look of instant distrust on his face hurt, but his palm pulling quickly off her arm hurt worse.

"How long?" His voice was still measured to seem calm. Hermione knew him well enough to recognize the barely simmering anger underneath.

Telling him about her search for Blaise crossed her mind then. That was when things had really changed, wasn't it? Suddenly they'd _talked_ about things, and she'd taken the time to push when he pulled. Asking Draco about his Slytherin instincts and pecking him for evidence had shown her the more personable side of him. But no – one secret was enough. She'd have to save her _investigation_ for another day.

"Start of term, a few months."

" _Start of –_ you watched him become a death eater and still _betrayed_ us? The last six years are just a drop in the bucket to you?"

"Harry, I _told_ you, I don't know _what_ I saw." She shook her head, almost wishing they could continue fighting about that night instead of this. "I haven't forgotten what Draco's been like for the past years – but, he's different, it's not like – "

"If you really believed that you would have told me without the _Free Press_ threatening to do it first."

Hermione didn't know what to say.

"I don't – Hermione I can't even talk about this. What are you even thinking?" He met her eyes with unrestrained fury. "You, who has always thought everything ten steps through and found the answers where I never could – I, I want to trust you. But this, I don't know, Hermione. I just don't know."

"Harry, you know I wouldn't have done this to betray you." Her throat had grown raw from the tears, but she didn't care. "I didn't tell him about the Order, or Dumbledore, or you, I _didn't,_ please trust me at least about that."

Hermione reached to grab his hand, but he was already standing, stepping back.

"I'm glad you told me, but not that you only did it because you had to." He shook his head, eyes firmly closed. "Otherwise, I can't talk about this now. I need to – I don't know."

* * *

Breakfast was finally arriving, and every other second Hermione checked for signs of doom. Soon the owls would arrive. It would be time.

Harry was carefully avoiding eye contact, and she couldn't blame him. She understood his concerns, but that Draco was months away. Hermione hadn't really seen that Draco since last term, even if he'd spent a fair amount of time on her nerves this term as well.

Eyes flitting across the hall, she couldn't help but look for him among the other Slytherins. She found him quickly. The pallor of his skin and weakness of his attention made it clear he'd gotten just as little sleep as her. Hermione watched him with distant resignation. There was nothing to be done now.

People would know soon. Hiding seemed fruitless – soon staring at him would be the least salacious thing her peers gossiped about. If she wanted to sit here and watch him chew toast and make halfhearted conversation with Pansy, then nothing would stop her.

His answer last night had solidified her trust in him. Hermione had asked him if there was anything to prepare for, and for some reason she had truly believed his answer. This newfound publicity would be bad – unthinkable really, but it had somehow marked the progress in their relationship. Maybe this was only a temporary thing, but even against the backlash of public scrutiny, he'd agreed to keep seeing her.

The weight in her stomach lifted an inch at the thought.

Soon his eyes rose to meet hers, and his eyebrows jumped in greeting. Hermione watched as the slow, exhausted smile spread over his lips. His chin pointed out more with his lips curving. She studied the small change, acknowledging the nervous discomfort she felt mirrored in his face. Her head nodded in response.

"That'll be the post." Ron's cheery voice noticed.

Hermione froze. Draco did the same, and they locked onto each other.

She couldn't break away to watch as her housemates unwrapped their morning deliveries. Words and pictures she couldn't even imagine were being spread eagerly under gossipy noses all around her. So much anxiety had plagued her, and now the moment had finally arrived. Squeaky titters cropped up all around her.

"What in the _bloody_ hell is this?" Ron's voice had lost any naïve cheerfulness. "What a load of crock. Hermione – look," he leaned closer, trying to grab her, "you won't guess what rubbish the _Free Press_ is pushing today."

Draco seemed to notice the hand grasping her arm, and gave her a solemn nod in understanding.

 _Good luck,_ he mouthed.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione looked over to Ron. She tried keeping her eyes focused on his, looking at the parchment just felt too real. A casual attitude was forced over her tense voice as she asked him what all the fuss was about.

"Those 'puffs finally lost their minds! Like you would ever touch Malfoy with a ten foot pole!" Ron barked out a jolted laugh before stopping to scan the Slytherin table. "My galleons are on him being behind this, trying to bug you. Merlin, they must have polyjuiced you to fake that picture too!"

"Hmm," Hermione hummed tightly. Again – what could she say? _Yes, I wouldn't touch Draco with a ten foot pole. I'd use my hands and lips and skin…_

Ron began prophesying on how Malfoy had twisted the Press's article while glaring across the hall at him. Hermione took the moment of monotonous ire to watch a hall's worth of eyes collect upon her. Whispers had raised louder until the dull roar felt overpowering. Every few seconds she could hear their names pop up in scandalized voices.

Draco bore a similar fate, if slightly more welcoming. Younger years around the Slytherin table watched him eat with ill-hidden awe. The closer students, aside from Theo and Pansy, sent him snickers of admiration and satisfied malice. Theo simply seemed to be scrutinizing him carefully, watching every muscle twitch as Draco chewed.

Understanding hit Hermione like a wave. The _Free Press_ must have written very favorably for him. Even if Draco had promised he had no plans, that didn't mean things hadn't worked out in his favor anyways.

"Really – look at this, Hermione." Ron pushed the paper under her nose, disgust marring his face. "I can't believe these bird-brains are believing this trash!"

Her eyes caught first on the picture. _There it was, right in front of her._ There was no question as to what was depicted, _a rendezvous._ Shadowy lighting made it all the more illicit – Draco flayed on his back, _waiting._ She didn't know when it was from. They'd had too many similar meetings in that dungeon classroom.

 _Hot and Heavy in Hogwarts Halls!_

Nose scrunching at the title, Hermione cringed. It seemed the _Free Press_ 'journalists' were fond of alliteration.

Scanning onward, she tried to read the article like it wasn't about her. She almost could believe they were debating someone _else_ 's private affairs. Surely this wasn't about her, Hermione Granger? Hermione Granger didn't lie to her friends. She didn't kiss Slytherins. She didn't see Dark Marks and question the life pumping beneath them.

 _Hogwarts' newest star-crossed couple has been seen haunting the dungeons late after curfew, as pictured above. Sources close to the couple report that Malfoy is having a hard time transitioning the relationship from lust to love. Given their sordid history, maybe that's why this pair has never seen the light of day?_

 _Cormac McLaggen, previous romantic interest of Ms. Granger, says the couple has been keeping their connection secret for a while now. "I was one of the first she told," Cormac explained to one of our Free Press reporters. "We'd been discussing a … rekindling, but then she said Draco had made things serious. I had to step back."_

Hermione had to stop reading to give a hearty scoff. _The nerve._ It wasn't quite a total lie, but she couldn't believe he would twist and manipulate her words like that. As if she wanted to discuss anything with that scoundrel. He'd been nipping at her heels for weeks before she'd finally given him the shove, and now she wished it had been a bit more forceful.

 _A confidant of Mr. Malfoy suggests that he isn't taking the relationship seriously. Malfoy was intrigued by the forbidden fruit of Ms. Granger, but is reportedly starting to distance himself. "He was looking for a shag that wouldn't make a big deal, but she ended up getting attached. He's enjoyed the hot and heavy start to term, but they aren't a love match." The source agreed to speak with The Free Press under the protection of anonymity._

 _The question rises, is this just another way for Malfoy to one-up his long time nemesis, Harry Potter? Ms. Granger is a decidedly unusual companion for Mr. Malfoy. Could he be stepping into unfamiliar territory to raise their feud to a new level? The well known Malfoy-Potter hostility adds yet another level to this scintillating romance._

 _Speculation against the relationship might be premature, though. The Free Press has learned of extended periods of unexplainable time for both sixth years, raising eyebrows from their associates. Ms. Granger's disappearances can be traced back reliably for two months. Known as an impulsive but reliable girl, Ms. Granger's friends began to notice unusual changes in her routine schedule. Three sources from within Gryffindor Tower, including their famed portrait maid, confirm seeing Ms. Granger entering and exiting the common room at odd hours._

Hermione couldn't be sure if she was more annoyed at being called _impulsive_ or at what she read next.

 _This new match provokes important questions about Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger's other personal dealings as well. Mr. Malfoy maintained a well-known association with Blaise Zabini, a sixth year Slytherin officially declared missing nearly two months ago. Ms. Granger's involvement in the incident has yet to be investigated. One must ask what interactions came about between her and Mr. Zabini in the days leading up to his disappearance._

That was it! She couldn't read it – she couldn't!

Hermione whipped the pamphlet harshly back in Ron's direction.

"Rubbish – again!" She called, her voice raising in embarrassment and ire. That people had so openly spoken about her, _watched_ her! "I can't believe they think this is print worthy." She tipped her nose upward. Other students were eyeing her closely, waiting for the final explosion.

Harry's gaze caught hers, and Hermione had to stop her chin from dropping immediately. She'd done this, and a fair amount of that _rubbish_ was unsettlingly accurate. Facing up to that fact was all the tougher now that she'd seen it in writing.

"I knew you'd say it was all lies! Like anyone would believe this – bloody nutters." Ron shook his head, a small smile began to twist in anticipation. "So what's the plan? We find whoever's behind it, plant a few puking pastilles? Throw some in front of Malfoy just for good measure?" The idea of revenge had perked him. Ron's eyes danced around the room for possible suspects.

"I didn't say it was all lies." Hermione said coolly. "I just said it was all _rubbish_ , because it is. These bloody Hufflepuffs have no respect for privacy."

She could only hope that Draco's well mastered mask had rubbed off on her somehow, projecting an aloofness she didn't feel.

"That'll be the Ravenclaws' influence," Seamus piped up from a few seats away, clearly eavesdropping and unphased by the growing tension.

Ron's eyes narrowed.

Hermione kept her vision locked across the table. Nothing seemed liked a good option to stare at, so she picked a candle and watched it flicker. Ron's gaze bore into her skin, and whispering students near them began to anticipate a fight.

"And which part wouldn't be a lie, exactly?" The edge in his voice was clear enough. Behind it though, Hermione could still hear his waning hope that she'd crack a smile, explaining it was all a bad joke.

"The picture." The candle twitched, and Hermione wondered if she'd accidentally been the one to make it move. "The meetings. The timeline – kind of." The words were heavy steel on her tongue.

Students nearby listened. Whispered conversations abruptly halted. Ears perked. Heads swiveled. Eyes widened. It was almost like a ripple effect through the Gryffindor table, running end to end. Other students around the hall, having kept a close eye on Hermione, noticed the dramatics.

"This is even worse!" Ron was at a loss, momentarily rooted in shock. "No! Harry – come on. We'll finally get that ferret this time!" His gaze whipped immediately to the Slytherin table.

Hermione had to snap into action when Ron began to rapidly rise from his seat, eyes still locked on Draco.

"Where's Ginny?"

"Ron!"

"Ginny, get Hermione to Pomfrey. She'll be able to reverse this, I know she can."

"I'm not under anything! Ron!" Hermione reach for his arm, hoping to stall the impending fight, even if for a moment. "Please – talk to me." She forced her voice lower, trying to meet his eyes.

Ron froze at her pleading, his focus finally broken. He narrowed his eyes at her, studying her with quirked brows.

"Hermione. Either you're under some kind of control, or you knowingly allowed the biggest bigot we know to actually _touch_ you." He leaned in close to explain to her, inflecting his voice as though she was a young child. "Come on now, I don't blame you. His daddy can't bail him out this time – the imperius is a one way ticket to Azkaban." Ron reached for her shoulders, treating her like a doll as he nodded at Ginny to help.

Ginny had remained rooted to her seat, unsure of whether she should intervene. Her eyes had widened, lips parting with thoughts struggling to come out.

"Ron!" Hermione squawked. "Stop this! Now! I am _not_ under the _imperius_ curse!" The gentle hands on her shoulders had brought her to a stand now, and she turned to face Ron fully beside her. Her hands were _definitely_ on her hips. "I know it's hard to process, and it's out of character, but I did this of my own free will. I am a capable witch, and I wouldn't be just strong-armed by the likes of some _boy_!"

He stopped then.

They were both standing aside the Gryffindor table as she waited for a response. Much of the hall was holding bated breath, fascinated by the morning's events. Students passing hushed whispers were elbowed and shushed. Slytherins snickered at one another. Gryffindors' were splitting among themselves, each face morphing with either hope or longsuffering annoyance.

"Hermione? Come on now, really? This isn't funny," Ron had tried lowering his voice, moving a half step closer to her, ducking his head.

She didn't move. "Ron, really. Please, will you just talk to me about this?" Brows furrowing her face, she tried to reach for his arm, tried to connect with him.

Yanking back, Ron pulled sharply away from her.

"I cannot bloody believe this! No, I can't _talk_ to you about it!" He glanced at Harry, finally noticing his friend's telling silence. "Did you know about this? Did you lie to me too?"

Harry's eyes widened at being addressed. Rearing backwards, he raised his hands in defense. "I just learned about it an hour ago. I had no idea."

"This isn't about Harry. I didn't tell _anyone,_ this is about me. Please." Hermione reached for him again, only to once again feel the wrenching pang of denial. "Please, if we could just talk," she whispered. Hurt by his rebuff, she crossed her arms over her chest.

"No – no!" Ron began shaking his head, his voice rising. His face rapidly began to redden. "Bloody talk to you about _shagging Malfoy_! I can't believe this, I can't." Head still shaking, Ron leaned over to pull up his book bag. "No, this is – this is ridiculous!" Ron's wide eyes barely glanced at her as he quickly strode out of the hall, still muttering to himself.

Unwaveringly aware of the multitude of eyes upon her, Hermione composed herself. Straightening her spine, pulling back her shoulders, and returning to her seat, she looked Harry in the eye.

"Thank you," she quietly said.

Harry didn't respond, still looking horrendously uncomfortable and irate.

The hall had boomed with chatter almost immediately, but the students around Hermione had remained unsettlingly still. Many glanced at her, questions dripping from the tips of their tongues, but remained unwilling to be the first to ask.

Hermione suffered five minutes of the silence.

Hoping in vain to save some level of dignity and decorum, she stood again. Bag slung over her shoulder, she merely nodded at Harry in acknowledgement before striding out to the corridor.

* * *

Only ten minutes passed until Draco found her.

Hermione hadn't been sure where to go after leaving breakfast. Her first class wouldn't start for over an hour. Instinct had guided her feet naturally to her secluded corner of the quiet library. As usual, the stacks were silent in the early morning lull.

She could feel Draco studying her closely as he approached.

His arrival had been clear to Hermione, but she'd yet to greet him. Bag strewn aside her, she'd dropped to the floor and perched herself against a bookshelf. Her sniffling and tears were muffled as she hid her face in her raised knees.

From her peripheral, Hermione could see his shined shoes step quietly closer. Without a word, he dropped beside her.

"That was better than I expected." His voice was low and quiet, and she sensed the tension he was trying to hide. "I didn't hear everything, but Potter was much more reserved than one might anticipate."

Hermione didn't respond. One hand pulled in to make a futile wipe at the tears on her cheek before she wrapped her arms tightly around her knees once more.

She listened to him shift uncomfortably beside her, clearing his throat and rearranging his legs. Soon though, she felt his hand lay heavy upon her back. The warmth was noticeable through her sweater and oxford, and the dull weight was comforting.

Her breathing began to slow as she focused on the connection. _He was here._ Even after they'd been outed, and he'd faced a perfect opportunity to play her in the palm of his hand – he was here. Draco had come to comfort her, to see if she was okay. He'd known where to find her.

Leaning over, she nudged her shoulder under his arm. Noticing the momentary tensing of his muscles, she waited until he relaxed to fully rest herself against him. Soon his hand began to move up and down on her back, smoothing over her sweater with firm strokes. Her tears began to fade.

"They'll find you – they'll forgive you." Draco whispered, his head craned down to near hers. "And who cares what the other idiots think, winter holiday's only a few weeks away. Right?" The encouraging smile was evident in his voice. Hand still sliding up and down her spine, he pressed heavily in emphasis.

Hermione cringed, and began to feel her face bloom with anxious heat once again. Her breathing picked up, and she shook her head into her knee in response.

 _Winter holidays._ Everyone at the Burrow would know. There were no secrets there – not really, and Ron wasn't going to sweep this under the rug just because she asked. Hermione could feel her chest tighten in fear. She'd have to look all of them in the eye, George, Arthur, _Molly,_ and see their disappointment.

Knot growing in her chest, Hermione tried to force air into her lungs. Pulling herself away from her knees, she turned to immediately gather herself against Draco's chest. One arm slung around him, the other tucked behind his back.

"I – I don't want to talk, please don't make me talk about it," Hermione whispered, her nose pressed into his sweater. Tears burned in her eyes, but she held them tightly closed and waited for the sting to pass.

Draco nodded, and she could feel the movement against her head. He didn't resist now to bring his other arm around her torso, locking her securely in his hold.

Hermione relaxed into the weight and pressure of his body against hers. A heavy breath passed her lips as she tried to exhale the tension in her chest.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** And the secret is out!

Are you saying to yourself, "wow, these last few chapters have been really self indulgent character studies, where's the plot?" Then hey! Get out of my head! I'm no Hemingway - but I'm doing my best! And if you look really hard at this chapter and squint, you'll see plot.

Thanks everyone so much again for reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing! I've really appreciated all the lovely reviews you guys have left, and am in awe of your positivity.

On we go!


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Sunday, November 24, 1996**

Draco's fist hadn't unclenched in about a week and a half. If he had the presence of mind to worry, he might have been concerned it might never relax again.

"Not planning to sneak out this evening?" Theo's voice echoed menacingly low in the empty dorm, the door newly opened behind him.

Draco froze, his shoulders pulling taut against the headboard. The question needed no response, and his lips thinned over his locked jaw. Theo stepped forward into the room, still clutching his book bag. Draco's head rose from the book to face Theo smoothly. Pulling the book surreptitiously over his thighs, he slipped a hand into his pocket. Silently, he grasped the soft wood of his wand.

Finally meeting Draco's gaze, Theo closed the door.

The air was taut, each boy waiting for the other to speak. Neither wizard's stare withheld their ire. Silence settling in the room emphasized their isolation. There was no one watching, no one to hide their contempt from.

Theo's jaw flexed, and a dull click popped from the hinge.

"Have you become especially thick recently?"

"Has something given you the impression that you're equal to me in any way?" Draco's nose rose in disdain, sneering. His mind buzzed as he set himself to default – anger, condescension, superiority. He tipped his jaw and pretended to lounge back on the bed, reverting to a position of unquestionable dominance.

"Cut the act, Draco. What do you think you're doing?" Theo's voice was hard, edged with unbound fury.

"Reading."

Theo's eyes narrowed, and his bag fell beside his bed with a heavy thump.

"You know what I'm talking about, Draco. Stop playing dense, or I'll start believing it."

"You backed me into a corner – and I called your bluff."

"My _bluff_?" Theo scoffed, staring hard at Draco. "Maybe I'll have to start believing it already."

"You didn't want to do that, to out me. I know how much effort you put into keeping Blaise's little girlfriend under wraps," Draco shrugged. Vindication warmed his chest at the momentary surprise on Theo's face. "You threatened to curse your own foot to spite me, and I let you. That was your own foolish decision."

Theo stepped forward, his chest puffing in anger. "Since when are we on opposite sides of this, Draco? Have you suddenly lost your bloody mind?" His head shook back and forth in exasperation. "I'm working in _our_ best interest, have you forgotten that?"

Draco breathed deep into his lungs. Theo's new blunt attitude would escalate this to a fight if Draco's own wrath didn't cool soon.

"I haven't," he conceded tightly. "I know what you're trying to do, but you're acting like a mother hen. My _indiscretion_ wasn't going to impede with my task." Draco could feel the words burn with insincerity on his tongue. "And it still won't."

"Really? I'm having a hard time believing that. Have you completely forgotten what you've been doing for the last month? Investigating Blaise; raising speculation in his disappearance; openly shagging _Granger_? Forgive me, but I'm not seeing a lot of commitment to the cause." Theo spit the words, his face twisted in disgust.

Blood quickened under Draco's heated skin. He pulled his wand, carefully keeping it pointed away from Theo. The other boy watched closely as Draco cast a privacy charm on the dorm, wand clutched ready in his hand.

" _None_ of that has anything to do with my task – unless you have something you want to confess? If something's about to come out about Blaise that I should know about, now's the time to speak up!"

Theo flinched, eyes boring heavily into Draco's.

"Do you just assume everyone around you is a complete fucking _idiot_? Feel free to tell Granger that I didn't kill Blaise." His voice was stone, anger seeped from his skin.

Draco narrowed his eyes at Theo. Angry as he was, he still caught the misdirection planted in Theo's words.

"And would I be doing that because it's _true,_ or because it's in _our_ best interest?" Stressing the importance of his words, Draco dropped his voice low to a measured steel.

They both stopped for a moment. Theo looked to be weighing his thoughts carefully, studying Draco's every breath. Draco took the chance to calm himself, to cool the blood pumping loudly in his ears. He felt like a coil ready to snap, holding himself impossibly tight.

Both boys had been speaking too bluntly for his liking – alluding to things, to people, best not mentioned.

"Because," Theo sneered, his anger still bubbling at the surface, "it's true."

Draco wasn't sure whether he believed that or not.

"And Lisa? Explain to me how it's in our _best interest_ to keep Blaise's life hidden, to not look for him," Draco prompted.

"Where have you been all term? Have you been paying any attention at all? Blaise _knew_ he was supposed to take the mark! He was just playing scared and running – like a child!"

Anger began swelling again in his chest as he watched Theo yell, his face flushed with rage.

"His _mother_ wanted him to take the mark! You knew he was hesitating – that he loved that girl!"

Theo scoffed.

"Well – Granger's really got you around her finger, then?" Theo sneered, his condescension almost enough to rival Draco. "No. He _convinced_ that mudblood that he loved her. He fed her pretty words and fake feelings and played pretend. And she believed everything! If she got in front of Dumbledore, or the Minister, and she told them what Blaise had said – about Slytherin, about our marks? How do you think that would have played in the _Prophet_?" Theo shook his head at Draco, running a palm down the length of his face. Anger marred every action, keeping him stiff and rigid.

Draco paused to think on that information.

He'd been right. He was being punished for riding the middle line. A Death Eater's mark was on his arm, but a muggleborn was in his bed. Pieces of himself had been divided in half. Part of him sat alone in the dark plotting to kill an old man. Part of him laughed and bantered and kissed a girl that he should _hate_. Blaise had been courted, protected, _managed_ because of his defection. Draco was being punished because of his indecision.

"So that's why you went to the _Free Press_? You thought I would have played it well in the papers. You thought it would show _him_ what a good job we're doing here."

"And two months ago, you would have done exactly what you should have! I don't know where the _hell_ your mind has been lately, but you really screwed yourself." Theo's clenched fist had gone white around his wand. "What is wrong with you? I set it up _perfectly,_ I practically wrote that article word for word, and _you_ flipped the whole plan on it's arse!"

"So you – "

Draco's lips shut tight as the door swung open, Goyle's familiar face appearing behind it. He stepped through the door with a relaxed smile, only catching the tension once he'd spotted Theo's posture. Both Theo and Draco quickly masked their faces again, but not before Goyle's eyes had scanned the room. His gaze snapped immediately back to Theo's. A knowing look was exchanged.

Still feeling tight, ready to pounce, Draco knew words were being exchanged right in front of him. Pressure in his skull made the room spin as he jumped from the bed, catching quick looks from Goyle and Theo.

He didn't give them another word before stalking from the room.

Draco slipped through the common room and out to the shadowed corridor, every muscle in his body threatening to snap. Tension was building. It coiled inside him, wrapping around his throat until he couldn't breathe against the force of it.

His soles clicked resoundingly against the corridor. Curfew would strike soon. He didn't care. He didn't pay attention to where he was going. Corridors would fork, stairs would switch, dead ends would hit, and he'd just keep moving. He had to keep _moving._ It was – it was a weight within him.

Something had settled on his chest. His lungs struggled under the pressure, his heart beat wildly in resistance.

Voices filtered lowly ahead of him. He paid no attention. Every thought in his mind was crowding another, flitting through his consciousness in desperate need of attention.

Everything was – it was all _fucked._ He just kept screwing things up, one after another.

He'd taken that bloody _mark._ He'd taken that bloody _task._ He'd apparently stopped paying attention to his housemates at the exact second they'd decided to need oversight. He'd shagged _Granger._

He'd _kept_ shagging Granger.

Theo was right. He'd lost his bloody mind. There wasn't any coming back from this. When his father found out, Draco might just get ripped in half. It seemed like no matter what choices were put at his feet, Draco had a real knack for finding the absolute _worst_ one.

Pressure loaded upon his chest. His skin felt tight – restricting.

 _Yeah!_ Just blindly follow your father, Draco. Just watch your mother be victimized, Draco. Just let yourself be crucio'd, Draco. Just antagonize your classmates. Just alienate your only friends. Just pick the worst girl possible and shag her. Just publicly uphold that decision. Just half-arsed prepare yourself for a death mission. Sounds like a bloody great time, Draco!

" _You_!"

Draco barely registered the attention. He'd reached an open space and had begun pacing.

"Who the bloody hell do you think you are?"

"Ron – wait!"

"Don't you walk away from me, thinking you're so much better!"

"No – Ron, wait! She'll kill you!"

" _Petrificus Totalus_!"

An unwavering freeze spread over Draco's body. Mind snapping back into action, he used his final second of movement to find his attacker.

 _Of course._

"Ron! Professors are about to start patrolling – is it really the time? Hermione's going to lose her mind!"

Draco's chin had frozen just by his shoulder, facing the bloody idiots he'd ran into. He watched as the two scuffled for Weasley's wand, Potter having deemed him unfit to carry.

" _Finite_ ," Potter whispered, grasping Weasley's wand loosely behind him.

The chill ensnaring Draco began to slowly thaw. His muscles had remained tense during the freeze, and now his anger was rising once again.

"Harry!" Weasley shouted. "C'mon, give me my wand so he can get what's coming for once!"

Unholy ire seared in Draco's chest. Wood slipped into his fingers, and he pulled the wand from his pocket. Immediately, he raised it at the two boys. Any previous thoughts had abandoned him now. His mind was blank. The only thing he could focus on was blinding anger, coursing through his blood and burning in his fingers.

" _Suffocus,_ " Draco grit.

Weasley began to cough, his face reddening further. Potter looked at him, not recognizing Draco's influence. Weasley's coughs began to lesson before the gasps started, his hand raising to blindly point at Draco.

"Ron – Ron! C'mon," Potter leaned forward, slapping the boy's back with enough force to dislodge. An inhuman blue tinted his open lips. When Weasley's gasps began to putter, Potter realized what Draco was doing. He reared up in anger, eyes narrowed thin.

" _Confringo._ "

Draco whipped aside. Blinding red flew past him, slamming heavily against a stone wall. As his attention snapped, Weasley's ragged coughs returned. His hands gripped his newly usable throat.

With Weasley barely capable of shooting death glares without gasping, Draco honed his ire on Potter. The two whipped curses back and forth. Neither was willing to submit, casting shields only long enough to fend off incoming spells before retaliating.

"You _choked_ him?"

Malfoy's lip curled in disgust, watching as Potter's anger swelled to match his own.

"Rightly."

Bringing himself to stand, Weasley looked ready to kill. He seemed to recover enough to grasp his wand from the ground where Potter had let it slip in the scuffle. Draco didn't want to test his odds with two on one, and knew anything that happened would be marked as his fault. There was no question as to who Dumbledore would side with.

"You're using Hermione! You – you _shagged_ her!"

Malfoy's first response was a vengeful sneer and well timed _expelliarmus._ Both wands flit from the air. Weasley shouted, having been seconds from firing something dreadful at Draco.

"And?" he spat, twisting his rage once again with the familiar comfort of condescension and superiority. "You're just mad she's done blindly kissing your feet."

Potter flushed with sweltering rage, his chest rising with hateful intent.

* * *

Hermione was going to end it all. She really was.

One more minute, and she was going to _Avada_ herself. War be damned, Harry be damned, Draco be damned. It wouldn't be _worth it._

"Is it – like, the bad boy thing? I mean sometimes when he does that _sneering_ thing, but with his eyes – I totally get it!"

Fifty seconds. Fifty seconds and she'd raise her wand, point it at her skull, and make it stop.

"It's just _so_ romantic! This is something straight out of a novel – enemies to lovers. And his family! _So_ romantic, defying his parents like that – all for you! How can you stand it?"

Forty seconds was rapidly becoming thirty nine seconds too many.

It wasn't even that _romantic_! They'd barely even agreed that they _liked_ each other! His comfort right after their outing had been sweet, but they hadn't discussed much beyond it. They'd agreed that morning to try meeting sometime in the next few days, but nothing had been made concrete. At best, it looked like they were just continuing as before, which had been tentative on it's own.

"And his friends! So many years of pulling your pigtails, all just to fall in love!"

She was going to do it. _One more –_

"What do you even want – what are you up to, you tosser?" Faint shouting rang through the corridor, pausing Hermione and Padma in their steps. No matter how distanced it might be, there was no question as to who's voice she'd heard. She didn't want to believe it.

 _Of course it's them. Of course._

"Give it a rest – won't you? Not everything revolves around _you_." _Of course Draco's there. Of course._

Glowing joy spread outward from Padma's skin as she recognized Harry's far off voice. "Come _on_ , Hermione. It's like you're in a romance novel!"

Hermione finally glanced sharply at Padma, shooting her a look of exasperation. "Well come on, then!"

The two girls tore forward, following the unmistakable shouting. Hermione clenched her jaw as she neared the entrance hall. Harry and Ron had gone to visit Hagrid earlier this evening, and apparently they hadn't made it all the way back.

Padma hot on her heels, Hermione whipped into the hall with her wand raised.

Quickly scanning the scene, she prepared for curses to fly. All three boys continued to yell indiscriminately, too wrapped in their anger to notice her and Padma's arrival.

Harry and Ron were poised to attack, glaring together at Draco. Black hair windswept and face flushed, Harry didn't even notice Hermione through his shouting. Anger was seeping out of him. It permeated the castle walls. Ron seemed just as angry, if more contained. The rouge of his cheeks had spread down below the collar of his oxford, covering his neck. The glare in his eyes was clear enough that he might be ready to throw punches.

Draco was just as tense. His normal mask and faked casualness was broken, and anger lay clear on his skin. Even without seeing his face, she knew for certain Draco was nearing unhinged.

A fight was coming. Hermione glanced first at Ron and Harry's clenched fists, confused to find them empty. She looked at Draco's then, unsurprised to see three distinct wands locked against his palm.

Her eyes caught movement, and Hermione bristled at Ron's step forward. Wand shooting up, Hermione _accio_ 'd the wands from Draco.

"Ron, don't!" Padma yelled, having noticed the movement as well. She swiftly put herself between the trio, her wand poised in defense.

"Padma?" Ron reared back, surprised at the intrusion. "Step out! He _choked_ me!"

"He _choked_ you?" Padma studied Ron for less than a second before turning to face Draco, her wand pointed at him. "Twenty points from Slytherin! For _choking_ another student!" Her disgusted expression tinged with latent disappointment. "Well that's not romantic at _all_!"

Ire began swelling in Hermione's chest as she scanned Ron's red neck. She stepped forward into the group.

"Hermione!" Harry's anger warmed face calmed minutely at the sight of her.

Draco's head snapped in her direction. She was already zeroed in on him, palms on her hips and brows in her hairline.

"You _choked_ him?" Her voice had risen to a near incredulous level, even though she wasn't overly shocked. Given the years of rivalry, this seemed par for the course.

"Hermione – he _choked_ me!"

Draco sneered at her, his anger maintaining. "He _petrified_ me with my _back_ turned!"

Hermione's eyes slid toward Ron's beet face.

"Why, in Merlin's name, did you need to _petrify_ him?" She demanded, ignoring Padma's squawk of disapproval.

"Ten points from Gryffindor! For _petrifying_ another student!"

"Because he's a bloody snake!" Ron cocked his head, daring anyone to question his logic. "He's – he's _using_ you!" Hands flailing, Ron spit the words with distaste.

Even through her love for gossip, Padma seemed to know this was headed south.

"Curfew was twenty minutes ago! Ten points each!" She puffed her chest, stepping away from the group. Turning away to corral them all with her wand, she pointed out of the hall. "Off to your dorms!"

Ron balked at her.

"You're three months younger than me! And I'm a prefect _too_! Stop taking points, Padma!"

"This is bloody madness," Draco scoffed. Hermione could still see the tension pulling in his shoulders. His wand slipped from her hand, and she was a split second too slow to snatch it back as a white wisp slipped from his wand tip.

Padma dropped limply to the ground, her knees buckling beneath her. A soft snore reverberated immediately from her parted lips, and her eyes fluttered quickly closed.

"Draco!" Hermione shouted in outrage as she stepped toward Padma. The fall hadn't looked too dangerous, but it had been quick.

Draco shot Hermione a hard glare. "She wouldn't shut up! Tell me you actually wanted to listen to her bloody prattle."

Hermione gaped at him, shocked. A heavy snore sounded from Padma, and Hermione looked back to make sure the girl was okay.

"What the hell! Hermione – give me my wand, Hermione!" Ron's face flushed deeper as he glared at Draco.

Harry stepped forward, helping Hermione tend to Padma. They arranged her head with a cushioning charm as the other two boys shouted around them. Hermione's head spun as she stared at the girl. She needed to stop this, or Ron would come for his wand and spells would start flying again. She stood, pushing Harry away when he reached for his wand.

"She's _fine,_ " Draco said, his eyes locked on Hermione's face. The warmth of her growing anger surely flushed her face as she clenched her jaw. Ire had clawed at her chest, and she knew it was clear to everyone in the hall. Turning her back to Ron and Harry, she stepped up to Draco.

"You – you need to _go,_ Draco."

"So he can petri – "

" _Draco."_

Eyes locked over her shoulder, he stepped forward. Hermione watched him carefully as he got closer, leaning into her. He was close enough for her to recognize his scent and see the creases of his oxford. His normally pale skin was flushed at the cheeks, dusting red under his collar. The angle of his nose looked sharper as it pointed at her cheek.

" _Hey_!" Ron called, "Get out of here, Malfoy. You heard her."

Draco didn't even meet her eye as he leaned closer, his lips nearing hers. Breath ghosting over her mouth, his eyes narrowed in mocking at the other boys.

 _Arsehole._

"Are you _kidding_ me?" She whispered lowly, "do you think I'm going to just let you kiss me just to piss off my friends?" Indignation was clear in her voice as she stared at him. Narrowing her eyes, she gripped the wands forcefully in her hand.

Draco's grey eyes slid back to hers and his lips curled into a familiar sneer. "Come on – _sweetheart_."

Hermione cringed at the arrogance she heard in his voice. It had been months since he'd spoken to her that way, and she loathed to have him do it again. Throwing her tight shoulders back, Hermione glared at him and stepped away.

"I – will – owl – you – tomorrow, _Draco_ ," she spoke through grit teeth.

Draco didn't move at first, watching her. He let out a slow, heavy breath as they eyed one another. The lock of his jaw pressed out from behind his skin. Behind her back, Ron and Harry cast jeers at Draco, calling him to leave her alone. Hermione and Draco ignored their voices, maintaining their own battle of wills.

" _Fine,_ " he whispered close to her ear, voice hard. Hermione didn't move as he stepped back, wand still poised in preparation. Neither spoke again as he turned on his heel and returned to the dungeons.

After the tapping of his dress shoes had faded, Hermione turned around.

Ron and Harry's anger still permeated the air, but she could tell it had lessened with Draco's leaving.

"You _petrified_ him with his _back_ turned?"

* * *

 **Tuesday, November 26, 1996**

It had only taken about two hours for Hermione's note to arrive after he left. He'd stared at it. It didn't look like a howler, from what he could tell. He waited for the screeching anyways.

Two days had passed and he'd yet to open it. All Monday they'd been frosty to one another, barely sparing glances. Draco had seen her at dinner. Hermione had sat with her back to him, but her tension was clear. The trio had only shared a few words as far as he'd seen. No one had passed the pumpkin juice, but no one threw it either.

Now it was Tuesday morning. Her note was still unopened in his trunk. His anger had begun to dissipate, and he knew it was time to read it. Theo was off to breakfast, Goyle still dead asleep a few feet away. Draco stared narrowly at his locked trunk.

This wouldn't be fun.

He likely wouldn't be replying any time soon, but he should at least know what he was in for.

 _Draco,_

 _Are you pleased with the outcome of this evening?_

 _I'm going to assume you understand how much worse you just made this situation for me. My disappointment shouldn't be surprising either. I already barely convinced Ron that you didn't imperius me, but after your little powerplay in front of them, he's now convinced I'm a masochist who's naively fallen for the bad boy._

 _You told me that you had nothing planned last week. Is Ron right – am I that naïve? I almost can't rationalize the difference in you from Friday morning to Sunday evening. Would you like to enlighten me on what happened this weekend to change your mood like that?_

 _Walking on eggshells isn't working for me anymore. What is this? How am I supposed to explain this to friends when I can't even explain it to myself?_

 _We agreed to meet sometime in the next few days. Let me know when you're actually ready to talk._

 _Hermione_

Draco stared at the letter, annoyed.

Who was she to be _disappointed_ in him? Where was the anger?

He folded the parchment and locked it back in his trunk without sending a reply. Draco left for breakfast, turning over every word in his mind.

* * *

Her friends still didn't talk to her at dinner that evening.

Draco had _noticed,_ annoyingly.

He'd eaten early, wanting to avoid most of the other Slytherin upperclassmen. Eating with twenty people glaring at him had gotten old quickly. Theo hadn't tried to incite another screaming match yet, but his girlfriend had been working to corner Draco for days now. Pansy seemed to lurk every corridor, just waiting to pounce. Draco couldn't be sure what she wanted to say, but he knew he didn't want to hear it.

Hermione was facing him, and had shot more than one frosty look over the course of the evening. Draco had given them right back. Why couldn't she and the other Gryffindors just get over themselves? It wasn't _his_ fault! He didn't _ask_ her to lie. Yet she wanted him to feel _bad_ about it – to feel _sorry_ for her actions?

Weight gnawed in his stomach, and he gripped the table's cool wood. _No_! He wasn't going to feel bad about this – he _wasn't._ They were her friends, and their relationship wasn't his problem.

Across the hall, heads snapped toward Weasley's resounding scoff. Draco glanced up, waiting for yet another fight to begin. He instead was faced with an unamused expression on Hermione's face, directed exactly at him. Her head tilted in Weasley's direction with a pointed eyebrow raise. _Are you happy?_

Draco sneered, turning back to his meal.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone for letting me know their thoughts as always! I can't express my appreciation enough for your reading, following, and favoriting this story.

This chapter is once again cut in an unfavorable place. However, again, it's the best of many bad choices. Have faith that I'm working in the best interest of the story, and have every intention to bring answers for every question. Chapter Eighteen will begin (very very close to) where this leaves off.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Tuesday, November 26, 1996**

He glanced around the library. The stacks were infuriatingly busy. He'd escaped the Great Hall right as Pansy was entering, dutifully avoiding eye contact. They hadn't spoken since the article came out, entirely from the sheer force of Draco's will. Pansy had initially tried to get him alone, but now it seemed she would take any chance she got.

He'd hoped to be alone this evening. Now he found himself in his newly pilfered library nook, surrounded by flustered third years. Draco sneered at them before tuning out the noise, focusing intently on his essay.

It wasn't long before was disturbed again, this time by a small note landing beside his parchment.

 _Tonight?_

Draco had no doubt as to who it was from.

 _Meet me outside the Slytherin dorms._

Sneering one last time at the crowd of younger years, Draco packed his essay away. He worked slowly to return his books and leave the library. It wouldn't do to reach the portrait before Hermione did. Clicking resonated underneath his loafers as he navigated the corridors. The sound echoed around him.

When he was right by the common room he looked narrowly into the darkness, trying to spot some slightly shifting piece of wall signaling Hermione's presence. Scoffing when his search came empty, Draco debated just leaving her to find a way on her own.

A small cough sounded just beside him.

Draco hid his jump with a well timed sneer at Hermione's appearance. Nodding at her outline, he turned to reach for the portrait.

"Have you seen – "

The portrait began to swing open heavily, and a harshly familiar feminine voice floated out from the doorway.

" _Draco!_ "

Draco froze. Pansy's bobbed head had sprung from behind the portrait and focused in on him immediately. Her mouth popped into a small _oh!_ of surprise as she stared him down. Draco grit his teeth, trying not to take a step back.

"Finally! News hits that you're shagging mudblood Granger and you're suddenly the busiest sixth year in history," Pansy sneered as she stepped out into the hall. Draco didn't speak as she clicked the portrait shut behind her. He didn't have to assume Hermione had heard, her fingers pinching the back of his arm made her displeasure clear.

"I've been busy all term, Pansy." He spoke tersely, hoping to quickly weasel past her. "Look – this isn't really a – "

"I don't give two bloody bats if this is a good time, _Draco._ You're going to stop right here and talk to me!"

Draco grit his teeth, desperately withholding his instinct to glance toward Hermione. A tight grip wrapped around his bicep. He was sure Hermione wouldn't reveal herself, but he needed to get that portrait open before Pansy got too brazen.

"Pansy – really this isn't – "

"No! No, Draco – you don't get to act _weird_ and _distant_ and _moody_ all term and not tell anyone what your plan is –"

" _Pansy_!"

" – and then just start _shagging_ Granger and then _avoiding_ me! Theo said – "

"Theo says a lot. I don't _care_ what he said. I need to _go,_ Pansy."

Draco tried stepping forward and around Pansy's side, reaching his arm out to the portrait, but she blocked him immediately. His chest tightened. His breathing shallowed. She'd already said things he wished Granger hadn't heard. Maybe if he just slipped his wand from his cloak…

"Theo doesn't think this is part of your plan – that you're just shagging her for _fun_! It's – it's ridiculous!" Her voice was growing hysterical, and much too loud. "This is what happens when you keep everyone out like this, they make up crazy stories! As if you would ever – "

His eyes thinned as hers bugged. The pressure in his chest snapped. This needed to – _stop._

"I did. It's not a crazy story because I _would_ and I _did_." Draco's voice was heavy steel, and he wanted nothing more than to push Pansy aside and escape. "There's your answer, now step aside."

Pushing forward, he collided once again with her rooted frame. Pansy narrowed her eyes at him, exasperation and anger flushing her face.

"You – c'mon Draco, stop taking the piss. That's not even _funny_." She gripped a hand on her hip, scolding him. "You act like you're all alone in this – like we aren't trying to support you at every turn. If you're alone it's because you _want_ to be! We may not know exactly what you're getting out of this little indiscretion, but we aren't stupid. She's got clout right where you need it."

Draco grit his teeth. This was getting bad. If Pansy kept talking, he might not survive the night. Granger was already going to have more than a few questions he wouldn't be able to answer. Merlin knew what else Pansy would come up with – how well she could incriminate him, if he didn't stop this.

"That's _enough_ , Pansy," he spat. Draco stepped forward once again. Granger's hand gripped ever tighter on his bicep, nails digging through his sweater. Pansy moved to block him once again, but he glowered down upon her. Gripping her shoulder, he pushed Pansy quickly aside.

"No – Draco," she squawked in protest. He was already whipping the portrait open.

Both of Granger's fists gripped his arm now, tightening as they neared his room. Every step reverberated in his stomach. Animal instinct crawled up his spine. _Trap!_ But there wasn't a better option. He'd already pissed her off, separated her from her friends. If he didn't stop her now, she was too likely to spill what she'd heard.

Eyes had followed him through the common room, but he'd been too riled to care. Draco flung the door open and Goyle greeted him from inside their dorm. He barely nodded in response before forcing the door closed. Three steps and they were on his bed. Two seconds and he'd closed the curtains. One flick of his wand and the space were sound proofed.

The silence sliced into his skin like a knife. Hermione's anger was clear, radiating from her. Draco was tense once again. The muscles in his body felt heavy, corded.

Across from him, Hermione seemed to chew her lip for a moment. She regarded him, eyes narrowing.

Draco did the same. They hadn't seen each other much since the _Free Press_ ' revelation, even less alone. He studied the slight movement of her curls, even as she kept still. Her brown eyes were warm with an unmistakable rage, but Draco found himself drawn to them anyways. Her locked jaw accentuated the smooth skin of her cheek, delicately framing her pursed mouth.

"Fine – I see you have nothing to say about all of this. Please just update me on what Theo said regarding Blaise and I'll be on my way."

"No – ", Draco grit his teeth at the instinct. The words lodged in his chest, clogging his throat. "We need to talk, about Sunday." His mouth tightened as the words fought a path outward. "I want to talk."

His hands felt heavy, his energy draining from the effort to maintain his calm.

"Do we?" She asked. "You seemed to feel differently." Hermione's head cocked in a patented look of annoyance and challenge. Her heavy gaze remained closed, holding pack pieces of herself.

"Look", he heaved, closing his eyes and gathering breath. "I was upset about something else – about the _Free Press_ , and they just caught me at a bad time."

"And then the _Free Press_ authors followed you into the Hall, lauding over you like a puppet master, making you taunt Harry and Ron? Making you _choke_ Ron?"

His lips pursed as he debated the best course.

"I was upset, and being _attacked_ shockingly didn't make my mood any better."

Hermione huffed, her own lips turning down in acceptance. "Yes, well, you're right about that. They were wrong to attack you, unquestionably childish."

Draco resisted the petty urge to demand a repeat.

"That doesn't change the issue at hand – your response. What about the _Free Press_ , three days after it came out, made you act like that? You _dueled_ with them, and then tried to taunt them like I was some dangling slice of meat." Her chin titled upward, and she eyed him down the column of her nose. The challenge was blatant on her face, daring him to try obfuscating.

"Why do you need to be so condescending? If you – "

"I'm sorry, wait just one second. _I'm_ the condescending one here?"

"It's not like you were crying tears of _joy_ over the article!"

Silence hit him like bricks.

 _Too far._

Emotion had vanished from Hermione's voice before she spoke again, but a flush still rouged her cheeks. "Stop trying to distract me. Something put you in that mood on Sunday, and I have three guesses as to what it was."

Draco really didn't want to discuss anything about his conversation with Theo. It flirted with too many topics he didn't want her knowing about. Even slipping small details would give her leverage he wasn't willing to counter. Best not to risk it. Maybe if he could just – _pivot_.

"I'm," he stopped to clear the thickness from his throat, eyeing her. "I'm sorry that I had a hand in making this worse for you. You're not the only one who isn't receiving positive feedback over – _this._ I was out for a walk, and we crossed paths."

Words seemed to settle on Hermione's tongue as she debated whether to say them.

"Blaise was nearly caught in a similar position, and multiple Slytherins made their displeasure abundantly clear. What did Theo say? Goyle?"

"Theo said the same to me as he had about Blaise – I'm a fool, making foolish choices, and foolishly representing Slytherin."

Her eyes thinned with doubt.

"Stop being cagey, Draco. I'm no idiot, we both know he must have said more than that."

"Do we?" Draco raised his brows in challenge, hoping it was convincing enough. "You'd like to have a clear little outline of how the Slytherins feel about us sleeping together – especially after how the _Press_ made it seem?" A sneer ripped across his lips and he tried to fabricate some level of disgust.

His mind began to run, making up possible comments in case Hermione called his bluff. Truthfully, no one had actually expressed dissent other than Theo and Pansy. Their circle's extracurricular activities were somewhat of an open secret in the house, and few were willing to risk their neck by speaking out. Some of the seventh years pulled enough weight to question him, but they rarely cared enough to get involved.

Hermione pursed her lips and looked to take his word for it.

"So that's all Theo said? Nothing more about you following in Blaise's footsteps?"

"He said that he had a heavy hand in writing the article, and that he wasn't happy with my response. Theo's not a fan of being surprised – I threw him for a loop," he edged the words with finality.

"Fine," she nodded, hair spilling haphazardly over both shoulders.

The tension rippled between them as Draco waited for her to speak once again. Round one had finished, and now round two was set to begin. Dear, dear Pansy, oh _how_ he could thank her.

Hermione's brain seemed to hum as she mulled her words, and Draco felt himself tighten in anticipation. He rolled his neck, ignoring her calculating gaze in the silence. It wasn't until he began to uncomfortably fidget, removing his polished shoes and unknotting his tie, that she finally spoke.

"Now – about Pansy," she said – voice strong, eyes blazing, defiant.

Draco took a heavy breath, watching her. There were questions burning under the surface, he knew, but she was tempering them.

"She shows concern for me – in the most infuriating of ways. I failed to indulge her over the weekend, and it led to what you saw." He tried uncomfortably to balance a thin line between annoyed and dismissive as he spoke, ignoring it's possible similarity to the voice of his father. Hermione would too quickly catch any hesitation.

"Yes – well, her feelings about me are unsurprising, but that's not what I'm discussing here."

"Isn't it?"

Hermione studied his face.

Draco tried to image how he looked to her, what she saw.

After he had closed the curtains, they'd assumed their normal positions. Draco's shoulders rested casually against the back of his bed, a pillow propping his back. He'd taken over the bed, one leg stretched flat beside her, the other crossed over that knee. Hair filtered over his forehead, tickling across his brow. The lighting was minimal, a couple weak charms and what streamed in from the dorm. His bones ached with a deep exhaustion, and even in the shadow he knew it was clear on his face. Sallow skin. Gaunt eyes.

"You're acting odd." Hermione enunciated herself carefully, watching his reaction. "You're choosing your words too carefully – not actually saying anything."

"Have I ever answered your questions?"

"Exactly, like that." She shook her head, not meeting his gaze. "Fine then, Draco. I'm tired. I'm fighting with Harry, and Ron, and the rest of Gryffindor tower – and I find myself just not up to fighting with you this evening." Her hand swiped a weak path over her face, rubbing wearily against her eyes.

Draco could feel himself weaken under the admission. She was just as fallible as him.

It seemed there wasn't any piece of him that wished her trouble any more. How could he, when it caused him pain just the same? But yet, what would he gain from revealing himself to her, baring his faults to her light. Hermione Granger wasn't a girl who understood failures of character, of being childish and foolhardy and weak. Even if she could understand, see his side, what would he gain? He couldn't leave his family and just trapeze over to the Order, assuming they'd even take him. He'd already done things that would merit a few years in Azkaban, and that wasn't going to change.

Pursing her lips and straightening her spine, she locked eyes with him. "You have no want to tell me what Theo said, or what Pansy was alluding to – any interest in telling me why you might benefit from my _clout,_ as she says?"

 _Kind of._

"I – " he started, quickly slamming his lips shut.

Hermione's brows jumped in surprise as she waited.

 _Think_ , he scolded himself.

"Pansy believes I should be using my position with you to – _reach_ Potter."

It seemed close enough to the truth, but easily misinterpreted. Certainly she'd assume something understandable, like a prank. Maybe a well-timed jinx.

"Is it – is that something you'd really consider?" Hermione's voice was low, and Draco could tell she was regretting her words as they came out. "Doing that, sleeping with me – doing all of _this_ , just to reach Harry?"

"Not anymore," he responded just as quiet, not wanting to disturb her.

"I – I can't do this anymore if you're even _thinking_ about doing something like that. You know that, don't you?" Hermione's eyes were hard as she stared him down. "I'm already hurting them enough, I couldn't live with myself if one of them actually got hurt."

The weight of her words was unmistakable.

"I'm not," he conceded. As the words passed his lips they felt false, but he wasn't sure if they were anymore. "Pansy just – she doesn't know. The absolute _last_ thing I'm thinking about when we're together is Potter."

She accepted his words with a quirk of her lips, looking away.

Neither spoke, and Draco felt her pull back from the silence. Hermione was long lost in thought, gone within her own mind. He watched thoughts flicker over her features, quirking her nose or turning her lip. The night was quickly catching up to both of them, and Draco could see the weariness wash over her skin. Hermione closed her eyes as she raised a hand to rub them, sighing heavily.

His chest felt tight. Draco could feel it like a pounding in his head. _You – you – you! You did this! You're corrupting her – alienating her from her friends – making her question herself – lying to her!_ It rushed in his ears, deafening him. _You – you – you!_ It grew, swelling within him, overwhelming him.

"Hermione," he nearly gasped, wrenching his mind from the shadow.

She seemed to return from somewhere as well. Head snapping upward, she caught his eye with concern.

"I'm sorry – really, about how this is coming back to you. I'll keep away from your friends, I didn't mean to make it worse."

He cut himself off, but couldn't stop his hand from reaching for her. Pulling himself forward, his palm landed on the soft skin of her knee.

"I don't want to stop seeing you."

The pounding stopped. It was like the air around him froze.

Hermione was looking at him carefully, almost nervously. It looked like she wished to eat the words, pulling them back from the air. The seconds of Draco's silenced stretched between them both before realization hit. He hadn't answered yet.

"I don't want to stop either."

Their eyes met. The relief was stark across her face. Breath spilled from her mouth, dropping her shoulders.

Draco almost envied her response – to feel that _snap_ somewhere inside. Hermione knew what she wanted, and she went for it. She knew how she felt, and she expressed it. She knew what she thought, and she said it.

Right now, he wanted that. Everything he'd been taught, that he'd practiced and nurtured and trained, was failing him. The path in front of him didn't seem straight anymore. _Should_ he be relieved that they wanted to keep seeing each other? How could she know?

"How to we go from here, then, with everyone knowing?"

Draco pulled his hand from Hermione's leg as she continued, reclining back.

"Let's just – be cordial, okay? Just because everyone knows doesn't mean we need to change our entire routines." Draco shrugged, exhaustion tempering his voice.

Hermione didn't respond immediately, holding them both in the silence.

"You don't think we should just be, I don't know, _nice_ to each other in the halls, in class?" Skepticism laced the words. At the quirk of Draco's brow, she continued. "I mean – we're already nice to each other a fair amount of the time. It's not a huge step up from cordial to just be _genial_ in public."

"Why would we do that?"

Even as he asked, the words felt sour on his tongue. The drop in Hermione's features was so subtle that he might not have noticed it if he wasn't looking. He leaned forward just a fraction, trapping her attention. "No – no I just mean, why cause more issue?"

"Of course, yes. We'll do that," she said quickly. Steel slipped over her face as she quickly detached herself from his presence. "People are going to talk already, no need to fuel the fire."

"I mean – we just don't want – "

"No, I agree. We don't want to make it worse," she explained quickly.

The moment was over, and tense silence reigned.

Draco knew not to try pushing the subject. Both of them were burning the candle at both ends, too tired to even put up a good fight. He knew there were more questions she wanted to ask, more answers he needed to tailor – but it wouldn't happen tonight. If he tried pressing Hermione again this evening, he knew it would only get worse.

"We'll just, continue as normal, yeah?"

* * *

 **Thursday, November 28, 1996**

Winter swept through Hogwarts that morning, a heavy chill weighting the air. Students crept into the Great Hall slowly, complaining at length over tea and toast.

Most of the Gryffindor upperclassmen were ignoring the change, instead creating a frost of their own. Few people dared to speak around Harry and Ron when they neared Hermione, waiting for the next blow up. Most students in hearing distance ended up chewing in silence, not wanting to miss a second.

"So, Hermione, is Malfoy's appeal all just from some humiliation kink? Are you just – "

" _Shut it!_ "

Seamus's lips slammed closed without question at Ron's booming response.

Hermione glanced at Ron over her coffee, but his eyes were firmly planted on his eggs.

"Thanks," she whispered. Ron gave little more than a grunt in acknowledgement.

Things had been more than rocky with Ron and Harry for the last week. Any naïve hopes of hers that they'd be on route to reconciliation by now were long gone. The boys had almost no interest in speaking to her. She appreciated times like now when they stopped the other students from saying nasty things to her, but she might trade a bit of that if it meant they'd look her in the eye.

She tried instead to glance at Draco, and the weight in her chest lifted slightly at the sight of him. He quirked a tired smile at her before turning away.

Hermione felt a twinge in her chest at what seemed like dismissal. She was torn between understanding and disappointment. Too many things were up in the air between them, and it seemed Draco had an undying grudge against open communication. She could sympathize with his preference for subtlety, but something was stirring under the surface that she couldn't ignore.

Snickers cropped up around her in waves. Hermione tried to ignore them. This was typical Hogwarts, and she knew it was silly to wish for anything else. Hopefully something just as ridiculous would come along soon and the whole affair would be overshadowed.

Soon the flapping of wings announced the morning post arrival. Hermione watched dully as the stack was laid in front of her; a letter from her mother, a letter from Mrs. Weasley, the _Daily Prophet_.

Ron and Harry seemed to have received letters from Mrs. Weasley as well, and Hermione watched as they opened and discussed them without her. She absently considered opening her own letter and trying to join. Part of her was interested in what Mrs. Weasley had told them, but she couldn't find it within herself to face their rejection right then.

A wave of whispers crossed the hall, and Hermione looked up in interest.

 _Aurors?_

Five burly wizards in regulation Ministry robes had stomped into the Hall, steel determination on their faces. They walked with straight spines and gripped wands, eyes focused unblinkingly in front of them. Mrs. McGonagall followed in lock step behind them, displeasure clear across her face. Hermione almost didn't notice the parchment crumpling in McGonagall's fisted hand.

"What's this?" Ron asked, eyeing the group.

Hermione didn't quite know just yet.

She looked over to the Slytherin table, hoping to gauge Draco's reaction. Surprise hit her when she realized he hadn't even noticed the scene. His face was obscured as he kept his gaze downward, staring at what looked to be a letter from the post. Hermione thought she could see a furrow in his brow.

This whispers began a crescendo, and his head rose with an unquestionable scowl.

Curious, Hermione followed his line of sight to the aurors. Her heart jumped. They were confidently striding right toward Draco, working their way straight up the Slytherin table.

"It's – it's Malfoy!" Harry whispered, watching the procession.

Hermione's blood pumped faster, refusing to believe it. _No!_ Her hands clenched to tight fists on the table. Her jaw slacked in instinctual fear.

"Dumbledore must have done something, then, found proof!" Harry whispered between excited glances at Ron. "That he's – _you know_!"

Stomach turning, Hermione kept her eyes locked on the aurors. They were slowing now, _oh god,_ they were right behind Draco. His face was masked in total disinterest as he looked up to the arrivals. She watched with baited breath as he folded his note, tucking it away with supreme casualness.

"About blimey time! I almost don't believe it," Ron replied, glee dancing across his face.

The hall hushed as an auror stepped forward, resting a hand on – _Theo_?

"What's this?" Harry asked.

Another auror stepped forward, this one grasping Pansy's shoulder. The others assumed defensive positions, prepared for any hasty escapes.

McGonagall's sharp voice cut the silence as she stood beside the aurors, eyeing the two students carefully.

"Mr. Nott, Ms. Parkinson, I'm afraid I must ask for your cooperation with Aurors Walter and Aldous. Your professors will be notified of your absence, and will plan for alternative arrangements." As unhappy as she seemed to be with her words, they were unequivocal.

"Mr. Nott, Ms. Parkinson, we will be escorting you to the Ministry this morning for questioning in regards to the disappearance of Blaise Zabini. Please stand," said one of the aurors. It was quiet enough for Hermione to catch every word, even with the auror's low voice

Theo and Pansy's anger were barely hidden behind stoic masks as they stood. Reaching for Pansy, Theo looked like steel. Neither spoke as they were escorted out from the Slytherin table, breakfast left unfinished.

Beside them, Draco watched in silence, slowly sipping his morning tea. Theo gave Draco a grudging nod as he was routed away from the table, and Draco responded in kind.

Everyone in the hall watched in silence, enraptured by the scene. A camera flashed. Two upperclassmen, lead away by aurors with McGonagall's approval. _Had the Free Press actually forced the Ministry into action?_ The whole thing just seemed – ridiculous! It was odd enough for the Ministry's mouthpiece, _The Daily Prophet_ , to pick up the story, but that must have swayed public opinion enough to force Thicknesse into action.

Hermione frowned as she watched Theo and Pansy walk out into the corridor. It almost seemed like someone was _trying_ to make a spectacle of them. The aurors only had time to pick them up at breakfast, right after the post, when the entire school would be there? McGonagall surely would have tried to postpone this, or bring the students out of prying eyes before being escorted.

"I don't believe it! This is almost better than Malfoy," Ron barked with a smile, carefully refusing to look in Hermione's direction.

She flinched, but otherwise tried to ignore the bite. She looked over to Draco, noticing his scowl had once again returned. Their eyes met, and he nodded his head toward the hall entrance. _Later,_ he mouthed. She nodded, looking away.

"Think they have something on them, then? About time! It's been what – a couple months since Blaise disappeared, weeks since Katie's attack?" Seamus piped up again, leaning toward the group. "Everyone knows those Slytherins are bloody rotten."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thanks so much to everyone reading! Looking forward to hearing your thoughts.

Anecdotally - I've reread a few of the older chapters as they've been posted here and remembered why you shouldn't beta your own work. I found a homophone mixup and I'm _still_ recovering. I fixed a couple chapters, but nothing contextually or conceptually has been changed.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Saturday, November 30, 1996**

"How _dare_ you two," Hermione shouted, eyes locked on her two best friends. "I understand that you're angry, and betrayed – "

Ron scoffed, glaring at her. "Angry? Yeah – sure. Why don't you try shocked, or furious, or cheated?"

"Shocked! I wish I could be shocked, but I almost actually expected this! You – you two _stalked_ me!" Hermione rose from her chair, looking down upon Ron's ever reddening face. Her hands might have been flailing, but at this point she couldn't be sure.

The boys were sat across from Hermione in a corner of the common room. None of them spared a thought for the other Gryffindors still awake, hanging on every word. Though curfew had long since passed, a handful of students had yet to retire for the evening.

"Hermione," Harry but in, standing to meet her. "You know we had to! Would you really be able to believe it, if I said I'd shacked up with Parkinson, that it was all fine and dandy? No! You'd be in the same place as us, trying to _help_ me!"

"Because that's what I _do,_ Harry, that's who I _am._ I have _never_ given you any reason not to trust me – or my judgement! I help you, and I believe you, and I stand by you."

"Exactly! And you _don't_ fuck Malfoy!" Ron stood as well, nearly quaking in anger. "Can't you see we were worried?"

"That doesn't change that fact that you _followed_ me! You two haven't even been speaking to me since you found out. But no – at night you get together, throw on Harry's cloak, and you _watch_ me! Merlin knows how you two fit under that thing now. Maybe that snug fit should have been the biggest clue that we aren't _twelve_ anymore!"

Ron's anger was growing, rising within him. The evening was quickly devolving with the curl of his fist.

"You're acting like you make some tiny mistake, Hermione! You didn't steal a chocolate frog – you _betrayed_ us!"

Hermione knew she needed to step away. She could feel the anger building in her stomach, crawling outwards. Her mind was locked onto Ron and Harry, veering beyond rational thought. Nothing was being solved here, no one was trying to understand. They wanted to hurt each other, and they were pushing for it.

"If I had thought for a _second_ that I was endangering Harry, or doing _anything,_ do you really think I would have done that? That I would have continued seeing Draco if I really thought it would have _those_ kind of consequences?"

"We're not saying you did that Hermione, we're just – "

Harry tried responding, but Ron's shout cut him off.

"No – you know what, Hermione? I don't think we even know who you are anymore! I realized the other night that I was actually _hoping_ Malfoy was manipulating you, or imperiusing you, or – or blackmailing you! Can you imagine what that's like – actually hoping someone is hurting your friend?" His voice hit like acid, spilling over her skin, filling the air. Ron seemed to deflate within himself, slammed with the reality of his words.

Hermione's chest caved. It felt as though she'd been hit. Her eyes fell, unable to meet his.

"That," she paused, clearing her throat at the raspy sound of her whisper. "That's horrible." Hermione shook her head, and felt herself step back. The fight had drained from her. It seemed – silly now. These were her best friends, not – not people she wanted to scream at in the middle of the night.

"Hermione, he didn't mean that. Really – we, we just can't understand." Harry stepped forward and as he reached for her, the fight seemed to be gone from him as well.

A sting welled in her eyes, warming her cheeks. Every though fled her mind as she glanced at the stone floor beneath her feet. Pressure was rising in her throat.

 _They don't know who I am anymore._

"Yes," Hermione nodded through her whisper. "Yes, well, good evening then." She stood, nodding to herself all the while. She could feel the tears coming. The feeling was rising with a single unescapable thought.

 _Get away._

She reached for the bookbag sitting aside, resting it over her shoulder.

 _Go._

"Hermione, no – I didn't quite mean – "

Ron stepped forward, his face still shrouded with the heavy red. A hand reached for her arm, but she pulled away before it could touch her.

 _Go._

Harry tried to say something, but Hermione ignored it as well. She quickly stepped away, hiking her bag further up. Some third year across the room called at her about curfew, but she pretended not to hear as she unlatched the portrait.

* * *

Hermione sat with her back against the cool stones, fingering the hem of her sweater. The dungeon chill was seeping into her skin. She'd been sat there for nearly half an hour now, consumed with the raging noise in her mind.

 _How could they get past this?_

Harry and Ron had followed her – apparently more than once. They didn't trust her anymore. And with this news, her trust for them was thinning as well.

She tried picking over the scenes in her head, figuring out what they must have seen. More than anything she'd been concerned about them overhearing Pansy's nasty comments from Tuesday, but she was fairly sure they'd had quidditch practice that evening.

For once she was actually glad to remember Lavender's voice droning on about how Ron looked in his quidditch uniform.

There was no question they'd followed her on the map as well, then. Mostly they'd have seen her meeting Draco in his dorm, and there was no way they'd have followed her all the way in. No – they'd probably only really seen anything on Thursday.

 _The map!_ They must know where she is now – waiting alone in the dungeons. Every second she was risking them arriving for round two.

Her heart thudded quickly against her ribs. _Or Theo._ He and Pansy had returned from the Ministry late Thursday afternoon. Draco said Theo had been in a fit of rage since arriving. She gripped her wand, flitting her eyes through the dungeon darkness. Someone would come through soon, wouldn't they? Then she could just be with Draco. Then she could finally shut her mind off for the night.

 _Oh, god, Draco._ Hermione rubbed her eyes. _What had they seen?_

After Theo and Pansy had been escorted out of the Great Hall, she and Draco had made plans to meet that evening in their old dungeon classroom. _Merlin,_ they'd kissed! And he'd – he'd _touched_ her! How could Harry and Ron have invaded her privacy like that? If there had been any actual sex she might have never looked them in the eye again. It was downright mortifying.

That was going to haunt her – she needed to focus on something else. What had they actually said? Certainly the boys knew by now that her and Draco were looking into Blaise's disappearance. They'd spent a good twenty minutes debating why the Ministry would put on that show at breakfast.

Hadn't she said something about Lisa too? Oh, Merlin, _she had._ There wouldn't be any lying her way out of that anymore. They knew she was in some quasi-casual relationship with Malfoy already. But now they had an idea of how invested she'd been in Blaise's disappearance.

Something scuffed in the darkness. Hermione snapped her head up. Someone was whispering faintly behind the portrait.

 _Finally._

She raised herself from the floor, wiping the remnants of tears from her drying cheeks. The hinges clicked as the portrait swung cautiously outward, two young boys peeking into the corridor. Hermione angled herself on the wall aside them, waiting for her chance. Her heart still thudded heavily in her chest. It pounded in her head, ringing in her ears.

Satisfied by the darkness, the two boys pulled themselves through the threshold. They left the portrait to swing closed and began to creep away. Hermione slipped her palm behind the painting, holding it open just long enough to creep through.

Alone and disillusioned, she swept her eyes over the common room all the same. The knowledge of her privacy being breached once again crawled under her skin. The darkness provided little serenity.

 _Almost there._

Hermione walked the familiar steps without thought, stepping even deeper into the dungeons. Slowly she creaked the dormitory door open. She was careful to note the dark silence of the room, assuming the boys were all asleep. Even without having seen the curtains closed from this side before, she knew exactly where to go. Her fingers slipped through the drapes without another thought, grasping for purchase on the bed within.

Her mind went blank as she moved, allowing her body to take over. Every piece of her was exhausted. The months of late nights had been wearing on her. She craved sleep, and hoped selfishly that she'd get to stay in late.

Draco's quiet breathing didn't shift immediately as she pulled herself up beside him. She pulled her wand, silencing the curtains in case he woke. Hermione toed off her shoes at the bed's foot, leaving them there. Ignoring the underground chill, she removed her skirt and oxford. Only her sweater remained as she laid beside him.

Draco finally began to shift beside her when Hermione pulled back the sheet, moving to slip underneath.

"Are you – what time is it?" His voice was gruff, coated thickly with sleep. The sound settled over her skin.

"Near one, I think," she replied. Hermione stretched her legs down through the sheets. Draco's warmth radiated between them. Legs bumping against his, she could feel his skin on hers. The familiarity comforted her. They may not have slept like this together before, but being beside him in this bed was easy – relaxing.

Finally tucked away, she leaned back against his pillow. Their eyes met as she turned her head to face him.

His hair stuck out in the darkness. Chunks had flattened against his scalp, ruining the new portrait of coiffed perfection he usually maintained. His nose looked thinner against the casted shadow, his jaw line sharper. Hermione could see his eyes were trained directly on hers, his brow furrowed. She watched his lips thin slowly. She assumed he was looking for the right thing to say, so she allowed them both to wait in silence.

"Are you here for," he paused, narrowing his eyes at her, "any specific reason?"

The words sounded hesitant, but she understood. Her face was still warm from crying. Surely her eyes were still red and swollen. Even in the darkness she knew it was noticeable.

"I needed to leave the tower for the evening. I just – couldn't be there right now." She sighed, looking away from him and into the shadow. "Since it's partly your fault, I decided you could share your bed tonight." The words brokered no argument. There was no request.

Hermione could feel his eyes burning into her skin, but he gave no reply. He seemed to accept her reluctant response, not pushing her further. Instead he adjusted himself against Hermione, leaving them closer to one another. As they laid in silence, she could feel the muscles in her back release. Tension dripped from her fingertips, slowly slipping off her.

Draco's warmth fought against the cool air surrounding them, drawing the chill from her bones. He seemed to accept her presence at that, satisfied with her answer. Hermione couldn't have been more grateful,

"Thanks, Draco," she whispered.

Over time they both shifted to get comfortable. Small sounds of bare skin slipping against soft sheets echoed in the quiet air. Hermione closed her eyes, focusing on Draco's presence beside her. They fit snugly in his bed for one, arms and legs meeting each another comfortably.

Breathing deeply, she forced swaths of air in and out of her lungs. A white wall appeared in her mind's eye, crowding out the thoughts that plagued her. She counted backwards with his breaths.

 _Seventy-five_

 _Seventy-four_

 _Seventy-three_

Draco shifted aside, his hand landing on the sweater above her ribs.

 _Sixty-four_

 _Sixty-three_

His breathing evened, and she felt his thumb swipe rhythmically over her sternum.

 _Forty-seven_

* * *

 **Tuesday, December 3, 1996**

Harry's arm jerked sharply under the table, and Ron let out a hearty grunt.

" _Hey_ ," he glared at Harry. Harry raised his brows suggestively, and Hermione tried to ignore them both. She hadn't spoken to either of them since Saturday night, still stinging from Ron's words and respecting their anger. Some silent disagreement seemed to be passing between them now, and she had a fair guess that it involved her.

She pretended to glance around the Great Hall instead. Lunch had just started, so most seats had yet to be filled. Students were coming in clusters, chatting and laughing.

From the corner of her eye she saw Ron squint accusingly at Harry. At another forceful nod, his head whipped quickly toward Hermione instead. Jolted by the movement, she looked to him as well.

"Sorry," he spoke flatly. "I shouldn't have said what I did." Ron forced a sigh past his lips, meeting her eye sincerely. "It was too far, even if you are shagging Malfoy."

Hermione thanked him, nodding. Something lightened in her chest at his words. It was _something._ If Ron and Harry never wanted to speak to her again, then apologizing would be a waste of breath. But Ron had, with Harry's prodding. It was going to take time, but they could get over this. Right?

They didn't speak much for the rest of lunch, but the ice was noticeably thawed. Hermione made idle chat with Neville, who'd yet to comment on Draco since the article. Harry looked over and responded to a few of Neville's ideas, but didn't speak to Hermione directly.

She didn't mind. Things were improving. That was enough.

When the Hall had begun to fill, Hermione's eyes ran over the Slytherin table. Most of the upperclassmen were there, but the air around them looked still. No one was speaking. Draco's eyes were cast downward, focused narrowly on the table.

Images of her Sunday morning in his bed resurfaced as she watched his hand card through stark white-blond hair. Warmth flooded in her chest. They'd slept in, reveling in the morning's cool shadow. One of her legs had wound underneath his in the night, but neither moved it. She'd woken to the feeling of his thumb rubbing softly on the sweater over her sternum once again. The weight of his hand on her ribs and his chest against her shoulder still bloomed her cheeks.

It had felt so – _intimate._

Draco hadn't pushed for an explanation at the time, but she could sense his confusion. Hermione felt an unhealthy justice at not telling him what happened. The atmosphere between them was still rife with unanswered questions, largely because of him. Tension built upon itself with every conversation, and she knew soon they'd have to face one another with answers.

Hermione appreciated the peace between them for now, but only because everything else was wearing her thin. She'd only tolerate a silent partner for so long.

Beside her, Ron laughed deeply at something Lavender had whispered. A smile crept over Hermione's lips at the sound.

A figure slowed near the table, and Hermione looked up to greet the Potions professor.

"Professor Slughorn," she said cordially.

The man gave her a genial nod in return before fixating himself on Harry. "M'boy! I was hoping I'd see you this morning. All is well, yes?"

"Yes, of course, Professor. I hope the same for you," Harry sounded as though smiling aggressively. Hermione glanced at him, and knew instantly he still hadn't gotten the memory Dumbledore had requested. She couldn't remember a time Harry had ever been so manically friendly.

"Ah, yes. As well as an old wizard can hope for, I presume." Slughorn chuckled thickly, resting a hand upon his robes. "I wanted to be sure, Harry, that you and Ms. Granger will still be attending my Christmas Party – just over two weeks left! I know of some great, truly amazing, wizards who will be joining us to celebrate the season. My old friend, Eldred, is so excited to meet you. I mustn't fail him!"

Hermione felt her face sour instinctively. Fighting or not, she still despised Slughorn's craving for fame, especially Harry's.

"I wouldn't miss it, Professor. I'll be there," Harry nodded, a fake smile stretching his cheeks.

Slughorn's cheeks pinked with joy.

"Ms. Granger?" The professor turned to meet her eyes, and Hermione confirmed her plans as well. With a small tip of the head, and not a glance spared at Ron, Slughorn made his was toward the Professor's table.

Having enjoyed the slight reprieve of Neville's casual conversation, Hermione stayed later at lunch than usual. When she reached Arithmancy, her usual seat toward the front was taken by another ambitious N.E.W.T. student. Glancing around for empty seats, she caught Theo's angry gaze. Their eyes met for only a second. Her spine straightened. Her skin chilled.

Looking away, she found a seat near the back. Hermione found herself glad to be distanced from Theo. They were the only students from their respective houses in this class, but she'd never given him much notice before. A weary eye was often glanced in his direction, but most often she focused on the lesson. She'd never noticed him doing anything strange before, much less taking note of her presence.

Now, alone with his palpable anger, she wished for the biting silence of Ron or Harry's company.

Her attention swung to the door with every arriving student. _How distracting,_ she thought in annoyance. Yes, she much preferred her usual seat up front. Finally, the seat beside her filled, and the lesson began. Hermione focused her entire being upon Professor Vector, taking careful notes of every word.

The class had barely begun when the door opened quickly, someone stepping through with purposeful movements. Hermione whipped hear head back, prepared to glare at a disrespectful latecomer, only to bite her tongue at the stern appearance of Professor McGonagall. Fingers gripping tightly at her quill, Hermione watched the displeasure on the professor's face continue to worsen.

"I apologize, Professor Vector, for my intrusion, but I must ask for Mr. Nott to join me in the corridor."

Behind her desk, Professor Vector nodded in agreement. She looked to Theo now, her mouth pinched. "You may collect today's assignment from one of your classmates before our next lesson, Mr. Nott."

Theo's face was stone once again, an unflinching mask. He stood without speaking.

Following Vector's gaze, McGonagall's eyes landed squarely on the Slytherin. "Please bring your belongings as well, Mr. Nott."

The class sat in silence as Theo collected his quill and parchment, returning them to his bag. Everyone's attention was centered on him. His recent dabbling with aurors and headlines was still hot gossip, yet to be forgotten. Hermione followed his every rigid movement as he joined McGonagall by the door. The professor looked at him tersely before opening the door.

Hermione, like the rest of the class, couldn't look away. McGonagall had created a passageway only wide enough for each to pass through, blocking the corridor's view for most of the room. Theo slipped out of sight as McGonagall followed him. Her palm pulled the door close behind her, leaving only a sliver of space to see through, but Hermione caught an unmistakable glimpse.

Aurors.

"Wait – again?"

Draco's brows furrowed as he looked at her. Pulling himself up, he leaned closer to her.

"Right after lunch today," Hermione nodded.

They were sitting in Draco's dorm, shrouded in the shadow of his bed curtains. During arithmancy she'd written a note asking to meet there, preparing to send it the second she reached the corridor. In return he'd suggested the library, but Hermione had yet to explain why that might be a poor idea.

"It must mean they have something on him, or that he said something last week," she continued. "I haven't heard anything about Pansy being called again."

Draco's lips thinned. His eyes flicked around the curtains suspiciously. Their wands had illuminated the space, mimicking the ever waning sunlight outside. At the turn of his head, the shadow struck the curve of Draco's jaw, sharpening his already cutting features. He whipped his wand upwards, repeating another privacy spell around them.

"This stays between us, yeah?" The debate played over his features as he wavered whether to tell her. His brows furrowed, the corners of his lips tucked, and his eyes darted suspiciously in the door's direction.

She met his eyes earnestly. "Of course, Draco." Somewhere inside, she wished he didn't have to ask.

"There's something going on at the Ministry," he sighed. "The MLE is dead set on blaming someone for Blaise's murder, and they're pushing for Theo to be that person."

Suspicion rose in her.

"How can you know that?" Ignoring Draco's clear move to speak, she persisted. "Isn't it a little convenient that a department of law enforcement officers would be highly interested in solving a murder – especially by arresting someone surrounded by mountains of motive and circumstantial evidence?"

Draco shook his head, staring her down.

"No – they were only brought in the first time because of that _Prophet_ article. It was just public pressure, and now they want to just clean the whole thing up."

"Sounds a lot like aurors doing their jobs, Draco. Where's the foul play?"

"My father tried to stop it, delay it, keep it quiet – nothing worked. Instead, the aurors made it as public as possible. It wasn't on the _Prophet_ front page by accident."

Hermione pictured the Great Hall as the aurors appeared. Every eye in the room was glued to Theo's face. Yet when she'd looked at Draco's, there was no surprise.

"You knew it was coming that morning, didn't you?" Her words were void of accusation. "That letter, it was from your father, wasn't it? He knew what was about to happen." Hermione leaned forward, her mind buzzing with implications.

There had to be some other layer she was missing. What interest would Malfoy have in protecting Theo? It seemed as though basic pureblood comradery wouldn't cut it. Hermione could think of one glaring similarity, but the idea seemed positively silly. _Why would Draco tell me anything concerning Voldemort's plans?_

"Bold of you to admit watching me so carefully."

"How else would I learn anything about you?"

It was sharp – too sharp. Close as they were, she could see the flex in Draco's jaw immediately. His secrets were becoming too large a topic to ignore. Hermione bit her own tongue in chide before continuing.

"How do you know Theo didn't say anything incriminating?"

Draco swallowed the tension before speaking again. "They used veritaserum on both Theo and Pansy, both denied knowing anything about the disappearance."

A flaw hung in the air, and Hermione tried to rebut. "But he's – "

"He's not that good," Draco waved a hand. "Theo knows a fair bit of occlumency, but not enough to ward off any real dose of Ministry zeal."

Hermione debated the issue in her mind. _What did this have to do with anything?_ Theo had claimed innocence under veritaserum, but she still wasn't wholly convinced. The MLE often worked with too little too late.

"So what's going on then? It doesn't make any sense to bring Theo back in if he's still acting innocent under veritaserum."

Draco's shoulders rolled as he thought. Hermione watched as his chest seemed to broaden, his frame widening.

"That's exactly it, though. Someone up high is throwing their weight around, demanding a second interview." Pausing, his lips twitched downward. "Probably more than one person, since my father hasn't been able to do much."

"He's probably why Pansy wasn't questioned again today. They pulled Theo this afternoon from a tiny Advanced Arithmancy class full of ravenclaws – quite different from the Great Hall at peak breakfast rush."

Hermione tried to rationalize the chain in her mind. Why would the Ministry ignore Malfoy's orders and keep questioning Theo, even when the evidence proved naught?

Her stomach dropped. Kingsley. Tonks. _There were Order members high in the MLE._

But what could they gain? Theo would go to trial and claim innocence once again. When the Wizengamot saw him hold the same story under veritaserum, they'd surely acquit him.

"So what's the angle?" She asked, looking to Draco. "What would someone in the MLE get by making waves like that?"

He didn't answer immediately. Instead, with a shrug, he leaned back comfortably against the headboard. His eyes searched the darkness before they met Hermione's own.

"I don't have that answer yet," he replied simply.

Hermione continued to throw out questions for a few minutes, but nothing seemed to stick. Draco seemed just as lost. They needed more information.

A lull hit. Hermione chewed her lip. It was time to tell Draco what happened. She felt sick at him not knowing. Not only had her own privacy been breached, but his as well. Only a few details from that evening struck her as damning, but he might not feel the same.

Crossing her arms, she fidgeted on the bed. The words wouldn't hit her tongue. They sat, heavily, clogging her throat.

"What is it?" Draco asked, noticing her nervous movements.

"Look – Draco."

She stopped there, taking a breath.

"Hermione," he replied.

"The other night – when I came here." Her jaw clicked with tense uncertainty. Did she _really_ need to tell him? It wasn't as though he told her anything.

Across from her, he waited silently.

"I had just learned that Harry and Ron have been following me." Meeting Draco's narrowed eyes, she added, "since they found out."

Hermione could see the grit of his teeth before he spoke.

"Are we surprised?" He asked tersely. "I should have known it would happen eventually. So this means they've seen us meeting – in the library, and that classroom?" Resting on his lap, one of his hands fisted.

"Not the library. I think they saw us, in the classroom. I can't be sure what all, but should probably assume they were there for," she stopped, clicking her jaw in anger at the memory. "For everything."

Lips pursing, she tried not to picture the horrifying sight. Ron and Harry, jammed close under an ever shrinking cloak, hiding silently in the shadows. As a fellow magical citizen, she admired their heroic pride. As a friend of theirs, it could _really_ anger her.

"I must say, I'm surprised they managed to disillusion themselves so effectively." With a shake of his head, he continued. "Best to be more careful in the future, then. I assume you learned about this over the weekend?"

"On Saturday," she replied, her voice low. "Harry made some snarky comment, I don't know what exactly, but I just _knew_ he was referencing something we talked about. I think it was about our discussing Theo's involvement with Blaise." Her eyes stung, but she swallowed the burn. "I asked him what he meant, and we just got into it from there."

The scratch in her voice betrayed the emotion she wished to hide.

Selfishly, she debated whether to tell Draco what Ron had said. There was no reason for him to know. Some part of her just wanted to feel the knife twist once more though, to share the anger. It had been cathartic before to share her troubles with Draco and hear his pompous responses. She'd complain quickly about something they'd said, and Draco would call them _idiots,_ or _potty and weasel,_ or _animals._ Then she'd huff, and defend them, but her chest would lighten, and she'd take the sentiment as it was.

Hermione couldn't stop herself, her mind blanking as the words spilled.

"They just – it really emphasized how secondary I am to them. Ron finally just got so mad, and he said something. I don't know, I had to get out of there."

"Weasley lacking in self-control? Color me shocked," he deadpanned.

"He said he _wanted_ you to be manipulating me. I just – how was I supposed to take that? He tried to say something, like how that makes _him_ feel."

Something like guilt twisted in Hermione's stomach as Draco's hand reached out for her. His palm rested on her thigh in a gesture of comfort, his chest leaning closer.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Thursday, December 5, 1996**

Draco received another letter at breakfast.

It rested in front of his plate, mocking him. Reality was calling. It pounded in his head, crushed his chest, sped his heart. His father was never more than an owl away. At some age that might have brought comfort. Now it pumped fear and resentment through his veins.

He reached out, unsealing the parchment.

The greeting was perfunctory and cold. Lucius hadn't provided much context, only writing enough to make the message clear.

 _Mr. Nott's situation is about to become more permanent. Prepare for a quickening of our timeline._

Draco's stomach dropped. It sat prone on the cold stone floor below him. The words swam before his eyes. _Quickening of our timeline._ It rang in his ears. It pounded in his skull. It didn't stop. It thudded within his mind, repeating on a loop.

The other students disappeared around him. They didn't matter. Essays and exams and Hogsmeade weekends. Why did they care? Didn't they see there was something else going on? Couldn't they tell?

A student was missing. Another had been cursed. Someone was plotting against the Headmaster.

Eyes locked on the letter, he looked straight through it.

 _How quick?_

Even in his mind, the question felt desperate. Spring had seemed distant enough, almost like another life. He'd had months before facing his death, a whole other term. Any time spent thinking on his future left Draco restless at night, limp with fear. His father's words had ripped the rug from under him. His task was slamming into him like a speeding train. Draco felt tied to the tracks, immovable.

He was stuck. There was no way out. Months had passed since September, but the vanishing cabinet was still hopelessly broken. He'd either succeed as planned, just to be killed by another professor – or he'd fail and face an even more certain end.

The air around him laid heavy upon his skin. It was suffocating. It clogged his throat, caking his lungs.

 _Quickening._

His death was coming faster than he'd ever considered.

Lucius wouldn't have sent this by owl if they could have waited until the holidays. And yet, here it was, burning the skin of his hands. He might have to do it before the holidays came. That was mere weeks from now. Not even a month.

Shamefully, his eyes flicked up the table to his anticipated victim. Dumbledore. He was real. Flesh and blood and crooked glasses. Draco's gaze fell quickly, unable to cope with the sight.

The letter sat motionless on the table. It looked deceptively light. In Draco's hands, it was the heaviest thing he'd ever held.

Thoughts swirled through Draco's mind again. He was swimming in fear, eyes locked on the letter. In his hand, his wand felt cold. The usual thrum of magic that welcomed him was buzzing defensively. It was cold water splashing upon him, waking him from the shock. With a flick, the letter was gone.

Other students glanced nervously at the pile of ashes resting by Draco's plate.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't think about this. He needed a distraction. He needed to see _her._

* * *

"Draco _– oh_ ," Hermione moaned. Air left her lungs in choppy gasps. He felt the heat on his shoulder where she muffled a high keen. Blunt teeth pressed against his skin.

The classroom had been silenced with all manner of charms and repellents, but neither wanted to push their luck.

His hands slipped over her soft skin, taking in every inch he could feel, grounding himself with the solidarity of her body. Their heavy breathing echoed in the air around them. Draco mindlessly pulled Hermione flush against himself. All he could focus on was the feel of her against him. His entire being was being poured into her, spilling from his chest and onto her skin.

" _Draco,_ " Hermione moaned, head falling back. Her bared back was rested against a wide table, long since charmed warm. One of her legs curled around Draco's thigh, embracing him where he laid over her.

For a fleeting second, Draco wished for a blanket to wrap around them. He wanted to trap her warmth before it could escape into the cold air.

"Wait – wait, Draco," her words pierced through the fog of his mind, stilling his hands. Arousal still weighed her voice, but hesitance had crept in.

" _Hermione,_ " he whispered into her neck, his voice raw.

"I can't let you do this – you're avoiding something." Hermione pulled her face back, trying to meet his eyes. "You can't just ignore what's going on around us. You can talk to me, you know?"

Her hair pooled on the table below, fanning around her neck and shoulders in a mass of brown curls. In the dim dungeon lighting, her eyes seemed larger than normal. They peered within his own, searching for answers he wasn't ready to give.

" _Hermione_."

She whispered his name in return, reaching an arm around his shoulders. The sound of her voice sliced into him. It slipped past his ribs, cracking open his heart.

"Please? Just talk to me." Her other hand raised to his face, angling him to meet her eyes directly. "Tell me what's wrong. I _know_ what you're doing." Eyes boring into his, she refused to back down. He was locked right there against her, held within her embrace.

Draco studied the amber of her eyes. He traced the line where brown met white with his gaze, trailing from one iris to the next. Sincerity and concern radiated unmistakably from her face.

"Later, okay?" He kept his voice low, not wanting to admit his own weakness. "I just – I don't want to deal with it right now. I just want to be _here_ ," he whispered the words against her neck, "with you."

Hermione acquiesced, nodding and pulling them closer once again.

Feeling deflated, Draco hesitated to move again. He'd been pulled back from oblivion, shocked by the solid ground below him. Reality rested heavy upon his shoulders.

"Well _come on,_ then," she giggled softly against his shoulder before pushing her hips invitingly up against his. "I quite liked what you had going before."

He mustered up some teasing words before moving his hands once again.

Hermione's soft sighs picked up again, filling the air around them. Draco's hips jolted at the sound, and he pushed himself down against her. With the grip of her thighs and snap of his hips, Draco found himself falling into oblivion once more.

Time passed beyond measure, swimming around them. For just those fleeting moments, nothing outside of that room mattered anymore. He could just _forget._ He could be young, and reckless, and in the arms of a pretty witch. He could be _Draco._

Later, sated and silent, they laid beside one another. The table's width was unsuitable for just one, so they kept close. He could feel her damp skin where it pressed warm against his own. The dungeon air was otherwise chilled, enveloping them in subterranean stillness.

"Why do you do this, Draco?" Her quiet words cut the silence, almost echoing in the empty room.

He glanced over to her, waiting for an explanation.

"Why do you write me when you're upset, and then just pretend everything's fine? I _know_ that not everything is fine. Sex isn't going to solve everything. Why do you call on me every time, just to keep me in the dark?"

Draco struggled to find an answer. Words rested on his lips, but he hesitated. The truth was there, but it crossed an unspoken line. They'd danced close before, but neither had crossed. If he admitted it now, there wouldn't be any return. It felt as though he was committing himself to something unknown, chaining himself to some invisible force.

But the words fell anyway.

"Because I like you, Hermione."

Because they were true. He'd made this commitment months ago, and was just finally realizing it. He'd been following this path of no return for too long to just turn around. A decision had been made in the library that first night, and he hadn't even known. Draco had tied himself to Hermione Granger at the start of this term, and there was no going back.

Hermione didn't respond.

When he looked to her, she seemed to be studying every detail of his face, searching for something. Her lips were pinched down, mirroring some thought within. Draco allowed her this time, deciding not to push. He could understand her hesitance.

"I kind of like you too, Draco."

The words washed over him, coating his skin thickly. It was warm honey, smelling sweet and feminine and familiar. He leaned closer, wrapping an arm around her waist. A childish grin swept over his face as he leaned into her shoulder.

"So which of us should tell the _Free Press_? I'm sure our adoring fans are going to love the sequel."

Hermione groaned at the thought, hiding her amused smile.

" _Shocking Twist in Sordid Hogwarts Romance_ ," she faked, pushing her nose up in exaggeration.

"Our journalists bring you a _Free Press_ exclusive with one half of the famed pair, Ms. Hermione Granger herself _._ " Draco played along, cozying up to Hermione as an inquiring reporter. "Ms. Granger, how does it feel to be so thoroughly shagged within an inch of your life by such a specimen?"

Hermione burst into giggles at the question, clutching Draco tighter. She pressed a kiss against his lips, and Draco swore for a moment that her smile was contagious. He held her in return, reveling in the unbound joy she extolled.

"Well if the fans _must_ know," Hermione grinned playfully, meeting his eye, "it's horribly _rotten_."

"Is it, now?"

"Oh yes," she nodded. "And – Mr. Free Press journalist, I have another scoop for you too." Draco could hear the teasing falter in Hermione's voice, and knew a segue was forthcoming.

"You do, do you?" Draco remained reserved, watching her with narrowed eyes and a wilting smile. "And what would that be?"

"I, half of said secret romance, want to try persuading a similar half of another secret romance to come forward." All amusement had dropped from her words.

"One more time?"

"I think it's time for Lisa to come forward about her and Blaise."

Draco nearly groaned at the abrupt change in subject. He pulled from their locked embrace to meet Hermione's eye fully.

A red, puffy face flashed in his vision, wet with still-flowing tears.

"I seem to recall her being _avidly_ against that idea," he responded with a measured tone.

"Think of how much her testimony would help in Theo's case! She can tell everyone that Blaise was anti-purism, and facing pressure from Theo and –"

"And about all the other big bad Slytherins with scary skulls on their arms?" He allowed his voice to fall flat, expressing his displeasure with the idea. The damage would be unimaginable, Draco didn't even want to consider what would happen if Lisa started telling that story publicly.

Hermione pursed her lips at him. As unamused as she may have been with his answer, they both knew his point was valid.

"That'll just be conjecture. Without having truly seen them, there won't be enough real evidence to investigate!"

Draco's stomach rolled at the idea. He didn't know anymore if that _would_ be enough to investigate with. Now that his father's sway at the Ministry had seemingly disappeared, that inquiry seemed a lot more plausible.

He noticed as her lips began to twitch with the anticipation of another argument, and Draco spoke quickly to change the subject.

"Setting that aside for now, Lisa was also dead set on believing that Blaise just ran away. If you truly want her to come forward and testify against Theo, she might end up helping him instead."

Draco was then assaulted by thrashing locks of Hermione's hair as she shook her head in response.

"No – because what evidence is there of _that_?"

"He told Lisa he wanted to leave – are you not calling that evidence?"

Hermione's lips twisted before forming a response.

"Well, _yes,_ that's evidence. But – how would he actually run away? He would need to sneak out of the castle without disapparating and without being caught, without taking nearly anything with him, and telling anyone what he was planning."

"So if you needed to get out of the castle _right now,_ and just had to stand up and leave, you couldn't do it without being caught?"

Hermione's jaw tensed under her skin, her eyes locked flatly on Draco's own. He waited in silence, resting his palm on her hip to keep close.

"For one – I am not Blaise. And for two – why are you so avidly against Lisa coming forward?"

Draco sighed, deciding to be honest.

"I really just think it's a bad idea, Hermione. It's a lot of risk, for me especially, and you can't even be sure it'll pay off. Do we think Theo did it? Do we think Blaise ran away? Do we think – what was it – "

A hazy image floated in Draco's mind of an irate Hermione, all pointed fingers and risen nose. She'd been scolding him, as she was wont to do, but he couldn't be sure over what now. He could picture the shadows of his bed curtains around them, cloaking her scorn and pinked cheeks.

"Ah – yes _, Snape snapped him in half and buried him in the Black Lake_?" Hermione cocked her head in an odd gesture of confusion, but he continued. "Because I can say for sure I don't know what happened to Blaise – and I'm not ready to openly help the MLE feed him to Azkaban just for the headlines."

"Draco I'm not pushing to get Theo locked up, I just think the aurors should have all the information before he goes to trial!"

He tried jumping in to question her assumption on the MLE's competency, but Hermione ignored him.

"And Lisa has quite a bit of information on both Blaise and Theo – whether we like that information or not."

"It's not that –" he tried, only to be silenced again. In the resounding continuance of Hermione's voice, he grit his teeth.

"And also, where would Blaise even go? I don't think he speaks any foreign languages. Do you know if he has any foreign homes? I really don't think it would have been that easy."

Draco pursed his lips, eyeing Hermione in simmering annoyance. He wanted to hedge his bets before being railroaded once again. When her jaw remained resting, he finally responded.

"Well, he's got a pretty good grasp of German and French. I think he even speaks a bit of Italian, if I remember correctly. Does he have any properties, though … " Draco trailed off in thought, trying to recall the list exactly.

Blaise and he had only held a loose friendship over the years. His memories of Blaise's holdings were limited and fraying with age.

"I believe his mother resides in a small manor near Oxford. He's mentioned a few times summering in France. I know they have a few properties there – Paris, Vichy, Lyon. There's certainly some in Germany, but I can't be sure where, or how many." Chewing his lip in the pause, he tried to grasp any other ideas. "I think there was one in Werlte?"

His mind ran the gamut, trying to remember any other properties. Southern Germany, maybe? Eventually though, he realized Hermione's stream of chatter had become wholly silent. Draco glanced over to her, and realized she seemed to be deep in thought as well.

She only seemed to come back once he'd interrupted, asking where she'd gone. Hermione had then glanced up to meet him, a bundle of thick curls falling behind her bare shoulder.

"France – there was something in that note Blaise had written to Lisa! He'd called her something – do you remember?"

The connection sparkled in her eyes, but Draco was drawing a blank. He grimaced in response, trying to grasp the memory of Blaise's love note in his mind.

"He called her something?" he clarified. "Like he gave her a nickname other than honeysuckle?" Draco dug the depths of his own French vocabulary, trying to make anything fit. "Was it something like chéri, maybe mon coeur?"

"No, no, it was like a phrase." She glanced around them, searching emptily in the dark. "If only I still had that letter in my bag – no, it was multiple words. _You are my personal_ – something. Don't you remember that?"

Draco repeated the phrase in his mind. _You are my personal_ – something. It rattled emptily, finding no connections for a moment. _You are my –_

"Oh – yeah!" Draco shook his head, finally recalling the phrase. "He said _my own personal fête des lumières_. Merlin, I remember that line. They must have been quite," he floundered for a word, grimacing at the idea, "serious."

"Yes, yes," she replied from close to the floor, contorting her torso to reach for something. "But what does that mean? _Fête des lumières_?"

Draco mulled the words, translating each individually in his rusty French. "Festival of Lights, I believe. Quite the odd pet name." He frowned at the thought.

The idea of calling Hermione his _festival_ seemed a bit uncomfortable, if not unnecessary.

"That's because it's not a pet name – you miscreant!" Hermione jumped suddenly, sweater between them, eyes wide, grasping Draco's shoulders with both hands. He tensed immediately in response, reaching to support her. "It's a reference to Lyon! They have this great muggle festival of lights there every December, he's talking about Lyon!"

 _Ah,_ he thought, _a muggle reference._

"Lyon," Draco repeated, rolling the word over his lips. He looked off in thought, trying to catch some small memory before it disappeared. Something was floating right there, within reach, but he couldn't grasp it. There was something about Lyon, _what was he forgetting?_

"Yes – Lyon! And with French fluency and homes – Draco, he might have run away." Her fingers gripped into his shoulder, kneading under the skin in her growing excitement. "He might still be alive!"

As the smile spread on Hermione's face, a pit sunk within Draco's stomach. It all seemed too – _easy._

Why would Blaise just pick up and disappear? Certainly if he feared Theo's meddling, there would have been a less painful recourse than leaving his life and love behind. He would have been right to fear Theo's meddling, even. Theo's goals were largely intertwined into a single, demanding task – keep the Slytherins in line. It didn't seem far fetched that he would have punished Blaise for such serious insubordination.

If Blaise just wanted to handle Theo, there would have been easier, more clever ways than vanishing from Hogwarts and into the night.

He watched as she slipped the collected sweater over her skin, drowning her chest in wool.

"I don't – I don't know," Draco shrugged, looking to mitigate the hope lighting Hermione's eyes. "It's kind of a weak connection, and Theo's about to be arrested anyways. We would do best to stay out of it all together."

Hermione's hands loosened grip on his shoulders, but she kept herself hovering over him. She studied his face with now curious eyes, glinting with suspicion.

"What have you heard?"

The words were hedged and careful, and he appreciated the effort. His defiance of his father's confidence and his family's safety in divulging this information still dried his throat. It was best not to think of the issue directly.

"The Ministry has learned that Theo's somewhat accomplished in Occlumency."

A stone weighed in his chest, halting him. It felt heavy, daunting. Draco knew he should never have revealed the letters from his father. _What was he doing_? He had endangered more people than just Hermione with that foolish slip.

"But you said he wasn't that good, that it wouldn't matter?"

"There isn't a way for them to really know how practiced he is, if they even care." He shrugged, hoping to shake off the lingering doubts plaguing his mind. "His testimony, under veritaserum and all, has now been declared meaningless. If anything, he looks guiltier than before."

His father had made a vague reference to something else, but Draco couldn't be sure what was being discussed. From what he gathered, his father wasn't even sure what had happened. It surely didn't sound good, whatever they discovered.

"Do you know what's going to happen, then?" Her voice was smaller than before. Draco noted the stillness between them, and laid himself back down fully as she rested beside him.

It was a question that Draco feared more than he could truly articulate. So many things seemed to be convalescing at once, all standing upon some precipice and glancing into the murky future below, Would he kill Dumbledore? Would he be dead this time next month? Would Theo be sent to Azkaban? Would his mother and father survive? Would Hermione care to mourn him?

 _Did he have any idea?_

"No."

* * *

Hermione glanced up at Draco's half-lidded eyes. The question had hung in the air between them all evening. She had allowed him to sidestep her earlier, reveling in the sweet words he professed, but she hadn't forgotten. It had swelled finally in her chest, pushing up and clogging her throat, demanding to be let free.

They had been walking the same thin line all term, somehow both ignoring and accepting their past. Both of them still held anger over previous injustices and grudges for words of youthful ignorance – but they'd built this new _something_ on top of that. Because when he wasn't himself – cuddling her in his shadowy four poster; rambling mad theories in dusty dungeon classrooms; shooting knowing looks across a suspicious Great Hall – he was still her childhood antagonist.

Somewhere inside, it felt like the culmination of months' worth of questions. They had built upon one another, swallowing her anger and doubt and fear. Small doubts niggled in her mind, questioning his intentions as he laid entwined with her.

"So," she caught his attention, meeting his gaze directly. "Are we going to talk about what happened today?"

The renewed tension that spread across Draco's body was evident. His palm went heavy where it had calmly laid upon her, his jaw clenched, his eyes thinned.

"Hermione," he started, sighing. "I don't – "

"Draco, I'm not going to do anything. You can just tell me, what's wrong?" Hermione flexed and released her foot, directing all of her annoyance away to somewhere less visible. The obvious brushoff grated her nerves.

"I was displeased to receive that news from my father," he tried. "Let's just forget about it, okay?"

Annoyance simmered under her skin.

"No, Draco, it is important," she stressed her words, leaning a hairsbreadth closer to him. "You reached out to me because you were upset, and I'm here."

At his calculating silence, she gave a heavy sigh.

"I'm tired of half-answers and subject changes, Draco. I'm here for you, but I'm not willing to do this if I keep putting more on the table than you are."

A scoff choked out of his throat. The wide, caught look in his eyes suggested it had surprised him just as much. He didn't speak for a moment, and Hermione found her exasperation rising in the tense silence.

Soon, she just wanted to _leave,_ get away from his arrogant condescension. At her initial movements to extricate herself, his voice finally sounded.

"I'm putting _plenty_ on the table, whether I've told you about it or not."

"Then _tell_ me about it! You know what's happened with me and the boys, and everything I've found about Blaise, and everything with Theo – but you _lie_ to me and _keep_ things from me!"

"I am doing my _best,_ alright? I will not just sit here and repeat my entire day and bare my mind at your beck and call."

 _Bare my mind –_ of course, it always seemed to come back to that. More than a month later, and their failures in occlumency were still a sore subject.

"Don't put words in my mouth – Draco. You're keeping things from me and I can't take it!" Her fingers wrapped tightly against her palm. Her blood rushed in her ears. He breath quickened around her rising voice. "What's constantly stressing you? Why did Theo _really_ out us? Why have you been so distant from the other Slytherins all term?" The words hit her tongue and Hermione knew she should swallow them whole. "What does that mark on your arm have to do with it all?"

The words were coming quick, hitting her tongue and slipping past her lips without consent. It had worried her mind for weeks now, planting roots of doubt at every turn.

"Is this all about your apparently secret little _plan_ – using my _clout_?"

Half of her regretted the words already as they jumped off her tongue. At the sight of growing ire on Draco's face, the other half joined in.

"You've been building up that little portfolio for weeks, then? Just waiting to corner me and hex the answers out?"

"I – l" she choked on the sound, forcing herself to restart. "I won't take half-truths anymore, Draco. That doesn't work for me." Hermione tried forcing her voice flat and resolute, edging her words with a tone of finality and demand. They came out sounding angry and weak even to her own ears.

"I'm not your little _lap dog,_ Hermione." His response was cold, but the anger was rising unmistakably within him. "I will concede the fact that I _am_ putting quite a bit on the table. I'm risking things worse than _friendships_ over this, can't you see that?"

Hermione noticed the tell-tale flick of his eyes downward. She didn't need to follow to understand his reference – the mark.

"I'm dealing with things here that I can't exactly _vent_ about."

" _Don't_ you belittle me, don't make me regret opening up to you." Her narrowed eyes bore into him, swimming with anger and hurt.

"You don't have to hide your issues, Draco – you _can_ vent to me! That's what I'm trying to get you to understand." She shifted up, kneeling beside him and trying to shake the anger from her expression. "I'm here! If whatever you're dealing with will solve all these questions – then tell me. I'm not _going_ anywhere!"

"I have do what I think is best – and that's keeping this to _myself,_ can't you _understand_ that?" Draco forced himself up straight, meeting her at eye level. The stress was written clearly across his face; pinching his brow, darkening his eyes, paling his skin.

"You clearly _can't_ keep this to yourself! You struggle, and you write me, and we have sex, and you push it away," she shook her head in maddening exasperation. "And I'm left in the dark without any way to actually help you or – or even know what you're dealing with."

"Can you blame me for needing some escape, to just pretend nothing is going on? I'm human, Hermione! I'm not infallible!"

"I'm not asking you to be infallible – I'm asking you to _trust_ me!"

"I can't do that! I have to focus on what I _can_ do and what's _asked_ of me – alone. I can't just pick this apart for you and explain it."

 _What's asked of me_ , she repeated in her mind. Hermione couldn't help herself from letting her eyes flick downward immediately, finding his forearm for only a split second. It felt as though he had finally told her something worthwhile, shared even an ounce of his struggle.

"What's being _asked_ of you? Draco, please – just _tell_ me. You don't _have_ to do what's asked of you. What happened to doing what's right – or doing what you _want_?"

"I don't _know_ what I want anymore, do you get that?" He heaved a breath, ragged with the admittance. "I don't _know_ what's right anymore."

Hermione's chest tightened at the admission. This was _Draco Malfoy._ He was the boy from the right part of Britain, posh enough to push around the Minister. Half of his personality was made of Italian dragonhide leather and that damn signet ring he never took off. The raw struggle in his eyes had hit her hard.

How could he even imagine she would walk away, rather than try helping him out of whatever hole he'd dug? After years of animosity and childish folly – this was _real._ He was just as much at the center of this war as she was, seemingly with even less choice in the matter.

" _Draco,_ " she stopped herself, tired of begging him once again. It felt like wasted breath, only to annoy them both. Neither was budging, just stubborn enough to stand their ground.

"I can't tell you anything about it but – " he heaved a sigh, and it seemed as though he might collapse within himself. "I have to do something before the end of term – something I really don't know if I can do."

She kept silent, shocked at his willingness to tell even that much.

"You can't tell anyone – you understand? Theo and Pansy barely know this much." With a shake of his head, the last of his annoyance seemed to slip away. "I thought I had more time, but Theo's issues with the Ministry have apparently changed that."

 _That's it, isn't it? Theo being arrested is an issue for Voldemort, and now it's changed Draco's so-called plan. What could Voldemort possibly want him to do? Recruit?_

"I have to do this, and I won't be back next term." The final words left a pained grimace on his face. "You'll know eventually – but, Hermione, you need to understand, I _have_ to do this."

 _Merlin, that sounded worse than recruitment._

"Draco …" she whispered, "you _don't_."

Even with only her vague understanding, Hermione knew it must be horrible if he wouldn't be returning after the holidays.

"Will you at least accept that, for me?" At the starting shake of his head, she pushed forward once again. "Just tell me that you understand I'm here – and I _want_ to give you another option."

Hermione swallowed her hesitancy, and pulled herself closer to him, nearly sitting on his thighs. Her hand reached up to card through his white hair, having long-since shaken out any styling he'd done. Her palm fell then, bringing Draco's face to turn and meet her own. The curve of his jaw felt sharp under her hand, jutting against his pale skin.

"Will you just tell me you'll think about it – that I'm here, and willing to help, whenever you're ready?"

His eyes held her own for a few silent beats of her heart. It seemed as though all other sounds were gone. This – _this,_ she was getting somewhere with him. Finally, he was opening up. Even mismatched and patchwork as they were – they were a team.

"Hermione," he whispered in response.

His eyes fell to her nose, and she waited patiently for some familiar denial.

"Yes, okay. I'll think about it. I promise."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Thanks guys! So lovely to hear from you and know you guys are reading and enjoying.

The love note is a reference to Chapter Eight. Snape snapping Blaise in half is a reference to Chapter Four. Hermione's clout is a reference to Chapter Eighteen.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Monday, December 9, 1996**

He'd _think_ about it? What was he – an idiot? He couldn't _think_ about anything of the sort! _Thinking_ and _hesitating_ would get him and his mother killed faster than he could blink.

If only he'd done anything _but_ think about it for the last four days.

He just needed to avoid speaking about it again – toughen up. Yes, Hermione would already spend the rest of term planning so he'd need to be careful. He'd admitted too much already, ignoring the fact that she was too skilled at reading him for her own good.

Draco raised his head, finally glancing at the hordes of students surrounding him. They chatted mindlessly, just as content to ignore him. He glanced from face to face, seeing right through them. His mind swam with doubts and unanswered questions.

One word repeated, but he wanted to ignore it.

He _really_ did.

It resounded, bouncing from wall to wall and reverberated on his skull. Draco had no doubts as to what it meant or it's implications. It had been there for months now. He was torturing himself, wanting what he so clearly shouldn't have.

 _Hermione._

So caught up in his own self-suffering, he ignored the post's arrival. Nothing dropped on his plate. He counted himself lucky.

Doubts ran wild through his thoughts, capturing his attention with worry and fear. Finally his eyes flicked over to grace the object of his anxiety, her nose buried in today's _Prophet_ across the hall. Nearly her entire face was obstructed, her bushy hair poking up over a headline he couldn't make out.

Hermione seemed to feel his gaze, for she soon looked up to meet him. Her greeting smile was reserved, and she gestured to the paper in her hands, jumping her brows with intent. The message was clear, but Draco frowned and furrowed his own brow in response, he certainly couldn't read _that_ from three tables away.

After looking around and scouting a discarded paper nearby, Draco unfolded the page over his plate.

 _Zabini Finances Under Scrutiny in MLE Investigation_

Draco felt even more confused as he continued on. Since when was this something the Ministry involved itself in? Old families like his had always held the power to push away any spying officials, especially those with the intent to query. For as long as Draco knew, there had been a very strict _don't ask, don't tell_ Ministry policy for the old families' finances.

 _As of early Sunday morning, multiple official MLE documents have come to light that detail a months long investigation into the finances of the prominent Zabini family. The family made headlines recently when the current heir and Hogwarts student, Blaise Zabini, went missing without a trace in September. According to the MLE, his case still remains open, and aurors are still following all credible leads._

 _The financial investigation began just over three months ago, says an anonymous source with knowledge of the inquiry. The case was prompted with an anonymous tip by someone claiming to know of multiple large and unexplained transactions. The same tip claimed these transactions to be financing dark activities, but this allegation has remained unproven._

Draco's eyes narrowed, reading between the printed lines. Anonymous tip or not, the Ministry's actions have quite a few implications. Certainly not least was their slow thaw on recognizing the return of the Dark Lord. What other dark activities might they be investigating, if not his revival?

A shot of anxiety slammed into Draco. _Had his father read this, yet?_ Surely if the Zabini's finances were up for inquiry, it wouldn't be long before the Malfoys' were too. His father's Ministry sway was already waning with considerable speed, especially if the _Prophet_ felt secure enough to print an article like this.

 _Many of the suspected withdrawals were sent to L'Avenir, an anonymous French corporation. One extensive document (reproduced on page C7) raises questions as to the ownership of this company, and doubts its legitimacy. Owning an international shell company isn't inherently illegal in Britain, but the suspected activities of that company may be. The MLE is focused on a number of high-galleon transactions that occurred in the summer of 1994. So far, investigators have not disclosed where those galleons headed next._

Something tickled in Draco's mind as he reread the paragraph. He'd heard that name before – _L'Avenir._ Ninety-four, that would have been the summer after his fourth year. Had he – _oh,_ and the realization came upon him immediately. He'd been there when his father was signing these papers! It had been something to celebrate, a night of _plans awakening_ , his father had said.

Draco's stomach rolled with fear and uncertainty. This – this wouldn't be good. His father's influence was all over those incorporation documents, it was inescapable. The Ministry certainly couldn't be sure what they were moving that money for, right?

Quickly Hermione's eyes met his, widening in question, nodding toward the paper held in her own clutched hands.

Yes – he had to tell her. But _Merlin,_ he didn't want to.

Draco took a steadying breath, heaving air into his chest. Steeling himself, he nodded reassuringly at her distant face. _It'll be fine,_ he told himself. His teeth grit with apprehension. Nodding to himself, he looked away and forced a calm over his nerves. He needed to see what else had been discovered.

 _According to one source, these galleons have seemingly disappeared, as little to no documentation exists beyond the initial Gringotts slips. For all international transactions over 40,000 galleons, two disclosure forms are to be filed with the MLE within three months of the transaction. At least one of these transactions is said to be in breach of this law, but any others have yet to be disclosed._

With a rock in his chest, he tried to remember the transactions he'd been told of. His father had always been a smart man, covering his own tracks. None of the numbers he recalled had broken that 40,000 galleon threshold, but he was possibly wrong. It seemed so long ago, how could he be sure? And how could the MLE prove this was anything but a filing error? Draco calmed himself with what small reassurances he could.

The Ministry couldn't demand that type of transaction information from the French Ministry, nor of an international corporation. As long as the movements were small enough, they shouldn't have grounds to dig much further? Without grounds to demand L'Avenir's use of the funds, the Ministry could do nothing but speculate.

 _Another suspicious series of withdrawals has the MLE concerned, these taking place over a yearlong period. Each withdrawal was roughly one thousand galleons, all withdrawn from Gringotts two to three weeks apart. The related document (reproduced on page C8), times the last withdrawal on the morning of 1 September, earlier this year._

 _Gringotts' employees denied to comment on the transactions or who appeared each time to collect the galleons. Evander Plum, a security wizard scheduled to guard Gringotts that morning, claims to remember seeing Blaise Zabini entering and exiting the bank that morning. You can see Auror Pollux's notes about this testimony on the same document, where he remarks the close timing of the Hogwarts Express._

He frowned at the words and risked another quick glance up at Hermione. She would see this as another hint of Blaise running away, but Draco was less than convinced. It seemed just as possible, if not more, that Blaise was pulling the money for his mother. She was rarely willing to traverse Diagon Alley as the years passed, much less deal with the Gringotts goblins.

Draco felt fairly confident in what the smaller withdrawals were for, and he anticipated they'd gone the same way as the larger _L'Avenir_ moves. It was likely, Draco thought, that Blaise was helping pull the galleons in exchange for Lisa's safety. Even if Blaise didn't condone his mother's beliefs, she was the only family he had. It wouldn't make sense that Blaise was doing it at his own free will, Draco found it hard to stomach that Blaise would write Lisa sweet nothings one moment and finance her demise in the next.

Across the hall, Hermione seemed for once oblivious to his gaze upon her. Draco watched absently as she sipped from a mug, steam warming a pink into her cheeks. Her attention looked to be wholly upon her surrounding housemates. The golden geniality they'd once shown her had dimmed in the recent weeks, but a sense of cordiality seemed to be returning.

Draco allowed himself to relish in her morning calm. Soon she'd want to talk, to rehash the article sitting before him. It didn't appeal to him personally, but he knew it would be futile to disagree. She should know.

Even with the knowledge that this wouldn't be the worst thing he had to tell, a pit still sunk in his stomach. Hermione Granger was peeling him back layer by layer, and soon she'd face his rotten core.

Half of him was sure every meeting would be the final nail in his coffin, the last step in disaster. The anxiety had grown every moment since his father's message. With each day he grew even closer to his future, the end of term. With every meeting he risked not only his own life, but hers as well.

His other half was a besotted fool. With each sight of her, he wanted one more. The curve of her hip was an art, the moans she made were music, the dots on her nose were paintings. It was madness to think he'd come this far just to stop, fool as he was.

* * *

 **Tuesday, December 10, 1996**

Hermione dropped her quill with a sigh.

The week was shaping up to be one of her busiest that term. N.E.W.T.s were always getting closer – every day! Essays, potions, exams; how was she to keep up?

She felt his wards slip into place before she heard him. Draco had snuck up in near silence, immediately casting a small slew of privacy charms around her table.

"Oh – Draco, yes. Hello," Hermione nodded in greeting, trying to mark her place. "I," she paused, scribbling a small note on the side, "I didn't realize it was already seven o'clock."

"Yes, I'm here for my fifteen minutes, exactly as allotted."

The tone in his voice reeked of sarcasm, but Hermione wasn't concerned enough to press him for it. Any displeasure he might hold for meetings like these don't make them any less convenient for her. She was a busy witch! So instead, sensing another quip resting on his lips, she spoke to quickly interrupt him.

"So – that _Prophet_ article yesterday, you read it, right?"

"Are you just hoping for incompetence, now?" he asked with a frown.

"Well," Hermione moved on, totally ignoring him. "What do you think? I went through the exhibits and it didn't seem like they had much to go on. I certainly don't see anything illegal in making routine withdrawals from your _own_ account. And why is this French shell company even a big deal?" The question had rattled in her mind since she'd read the article. If she had the time to research the laws on magical finance she might be able to figure out, but something told her Draco might have whatever information she needed. Wasn't his family's whole business based on skirting magical finance law?

"Privacy, mostly. It's quite difficult for the MLE to follow that money once it's passed under French jurisdiction. Even if they did talk the French into cooperating, the money could be long gone by then."

"So why would the MLE care? It doesn't make sense for them to just assume wrongdoing."

"That 'anonymous tip' of theirs gives reason for suspicion. It's incredibly weak, but they at least have the ability to follow the money into France if they choose."

"Once it got into France, would that –" Hermione paused herself. She wanted to ask about Voldemort, but how would he take it? Hermione would take any answer he would give, but she just didn't want to waste their few moments together in strife forcing it out of him. Instead she chose to pivot, allowing him to decide.

"Do you have any idea why Blaise's mother would want to do that?" Her voice stayed tempered and, she hoped, casual.

Draco seemed to frown at himself, looking away from her in thought. It was a moment before he came back, meeting her eye and setting his jaw.

"About that – Hermione." He sighed and rolled his shoulders back. "I've heard of L'Avenir before – "

Her voice cut in, "the French company?"

"Yes, the company the Zabinis sent money through. I was there when it was being set up, when they were signing the papers and making plans with it."

"Oh," the understanding had hit her voice immediately. Hermione nodded resolutely to herself, deciding not to dwell on the possible implications just yet. "Well, good! So you know what all of this is about," she reached over, laying a palm on his arm. "Come on, then. What's the deal with these weird transfers?"

It took effort to keep the interest in her voice. She doubted it came off as anything but forced cheer, but she really wanted Draco to feel comfortable opening up to her. Starting on the defensive seemed like a bad idea.

Hermione watched as he eyed her, mulling over the words on his tongue.

"It's for exactly what the Daily Prophet seems to think it's for."

Hearing the confirmation, Hermione felt her chest tighten.

"And I take it your … ?" She allowed the words to hang unbidden in the air, letting Draco reveal only what he chose.

"Yes, my father was the architect of most of it. It was only fourth year though, so I don't – I don't know how deeply he got into the weeds."

"Do you think, then, that they'll find anything truly incriminating?" Hermione asked, before quickly adding, "against Ms. Zabini?"

Draco frowned even deeper. Hermione could sense that his displeasure didn't lie with her for asking, but the with the issue for existing.

"I can't say I know." With a jolt back to reality, he shook his head. When he leaned forward across the table, Hermione couldn't resist doing the same. "This is quite an odd situation, you see? This has never happened before, the MLE rooting into the finances of old families – and certainly not off _tips_ or _clerical errors_. No, this is quite unusual."

"What are they looking to find, you think? If the MLE is willing to risk it, break precedence, they must have some reason, I'd hope."

"It's exactly what we discussed before, somethings going on at the MLE. Targeting Theo and Pansy, looking into the Zabini coffers, ignoring my father, what's next?"

Hermione pursed her lips, eyeing Draco. "I'm sure you're not waiting for my sympathies?"

With a roll of his eyes, he continued on. "You know I'm right. I've seen you read that _Prophet_ every morning for years, have you ever heard of something like this happening?"

"Well," Hermione paused, truly searching her memory. "I guess not, no. Even knowing what horrible things people got up to, the Ministry has turned a blind eye for one reason or another."

"And now, those reasons have seemingly disappeared. I don't know how this is going to play out, or what they think they'll find anymore."

"But what _is_ there to find? If they're able to get around the international bureaucracy and follow that money into France, what'll they find?"

His eyes thinned before glancing warily around the library. "Do you think we're safe enough to speak here?"

Hermione frowned and glanced around as well. With an air of hesitation, she raised her wand to double over his existing charms.

"I believe so. If it's Harry and Ron you're concerned about, we should be fine. They've been much nicer lately. Nearing friendly, if I dare say so," she stopped herself with a thin smile, remembering the short greetings the boys had exchanged with her that morning. The gesture itself was minuscule, but she reveled in the joy of progress.

Draco nodded, meeting her eyes. "Between us, yeah?" A teasing smile ghosted at his lips. To hear him confirm that yet again brought a smile to her own. They'd come so far from their first confirmations of privacy, of trust, that it was merely a formality now. Of course she'd never tell anyone, and he knew it.

"For the big transactions, the ones they know for sure went to France, most of it went into a general," Draco paused himself, tilting his head each way in search of a word, " _discretionary_ fund, shall we say. There was a large chunk of it though, that went into providing housing for _him_."

Hermione narrowed her eyes and barely cocked her head in question, wanting to be wholly sure which _him_ was being discussed.

"Yes, _him._ It was right after the Triwizard Tournament, everyone was scrambling to find somewhere he could stay. The general funds would be tough to tie down, but if they actually follow that money into France, they'd only be a few steps from finding that Manor."

"But, France? All of his supporters are here in Britain, and international travel is so much more regulated."

The lock in Draco's jaw was visible as they continued, stress tightening every muscle Hermione could see. It was clear to her this was a touchy topic, but she couldn't be exactly sure why. If it was so distressing for him to reveal this, why would he? Draco had proven time and time again his willingness to hide pieces of himself from her. Something pulled in Hermione's gut, telling her she was missing the actually distressing part.

"All of his enemies were here too. No one had any idea for sure what he'd want. They would have been able to easily get an illegal portkey, at that point he might be safer staying in France for a while."

The connection clicked then in Hermione's mind.

"And Blaise? So there's a magical, highly secret fortress in France under his family name. He speaks French … and talks about leaving for the continent with his illicit girlfriend," Hermione raised her brows at Draco, drawing out her words.

To her surprise, Draco shook his head immediately in response.

"What? That's exactly – " she tried to defend herself.

"No, trust me. Why would Blaise want to go there? If he's left like you're suggesting, it's under the fear of the exact people his mother is financing. So he's going to escape from them – by hiding in their secret fortress? Even after he left, Blaise wouldn't – "

"Wait so he stayed there, and now he's gone? Where is he?" Hermione bit her tongue the second she heard herself. _Stupid._ Why would she step over the line like that?

Draco's face tensed even more, looking away from her, closing off. _Merlin,_ Hermione, she knew it was breaking that line. He was opening up, _finally,_ and she had to cross that well understood barrier. Hoping to backtrack, she quickly spoke again.

"So that Manor is empty, and now _he's_ gone. No one would ever suspect Blaise would go there, it might be perfect."

"Hermione, _no._ Even if, on the off chance, he's in France; even if, amazingly, he did escape the castle and the Ministry; even if, by force of will, he left Lisa behind; he's not in that Manor. I promise you." Determined belief was written clear across Draco's face as he spoke.

"I just don't see why you won't even consider it? I _get_ that it's unlikely, but isn't it just as unlikely Dumbledore would let a student be _killed_ in the castle without doing anything about it?"

Draco's scoff sparked a flame in Hermione's chest. _Merlin – if he would just listen to her!_

"And you can't even see the irony in that." Growing ire laced each word, spitting from his clenched jaw. Draco threw himself back against the library chair with a thud. His arm pulled from under her palm, sharply disconnecting them.

"What? Don't insult me – explain this to me!" Hermione shook her head in exasperated anger. This was too quickly devolving into their usual fight. Going nowhere, learning nothing. "Explain to me how him staying at that manor wouldn't be a tactical, unexpected move. He'd be away from the Ministry, away from Britain, totally safe on – "

" _Safe?_ Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Draco!"

"He's never going to be safe in that place, do you even hear yourself? _He'_ s living there! Stalking the halls, flicking that wand, telling everyone what to do! No one's ever going to be _safe_ around him! It's – it's not worth living that way!"

Hermione sat forward even further, grasping the disconnect in his words. Warmth flooded over her face at the anger in his tone, tempered only by the chill of understanding beneath her skin. With a reach, she brought her hand to him once again.

Rage was still pinking his pale cheeks, but Draco had seemingly frozen in place. The weight of his words had hit immediately. They both knew he hadn't been speaking about Blaise anymore.

As her hand grasped his, Hermione's mind raced. _Voldemort was living in the Manor._ That had to be it, why else would he say those things? Merlin, what did this mean? He'd mentioned previously they were _asking_ him to do things. So he's taking orders from Voldemort directly, then?

Hermione shivered at the implication. Of course this was weighing on him, she couldn't even imagine. What could he possibly be asked to do?

* * *

Later that evening, Hermione laid restless in bed.

The short moment she and Draco had shared played endlessly in her mind. She picked apart every moment, every word, and analyzed them. So clearly she could tell now how this past year had been weighing upon him. To have Voldemort living in his home, holding him prisoner.

It twisted at Hermione's heart to wonder if this was why they'd started up. Had they only kissed that first night out of some chaotic teen rebellion he felt? Something in her hollowed at the thought. He could have just needed that release – the feeling of knowing what you were doing was _so_ wrong, and yet doing it anyways.

Had he instead truly been after her _clout_ , as Pansy had claimed? It seemed impossible to be sure that he truly was unhappy about Voldemort's presence. For all she knew, he was ecstatic. Could he be just tempting her with romance while bringing her to slaughter.

 _Morgana._

With a shiver of fear, Hermione had to cut off her own thoughts. She couldn't stand the possibility.

If that was true, did it make their bond now stronger, or weaker? Say he had kissed her ( _as she claimed and he denied_ ) for such dishonest reasons. Now he seemed to be questioning every value he'd ever known. He was revealing, often unintentionally, things Kingsley would kill to hear. How real could this be?

Being with him felt electric, like she knew exactly what to say and yet her mind was blank. Hermione knew she'd never felt that way with anyone else. Draco challenged her beliefs, pushed her bounds, tested her at every turn. For her first schoolgirl romance, she knew being with Draco was going to change her life.

And as she picked over his words, guessing at each piece of subtext and byplay, one small thought pricked at her mind.

Slughorn's Christmas party was a week from today.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I just want to thank everyone who shared their thoughts on this story. Glad to hear from each one of you! Thanks for reading, guys.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Friday, December 13, 1996**

"Are you kidding me? The Applebys aren't going to last one more game, much less all the way to the Cup!"

"Have you even seen their beaters? They're bloody madmen, total lunatics! I'm just saying they've got a chance – a small one!"

"Just over their beaters? C'mon mate, we both know their seeker's shit, that's all that matters."

Harry's voice whipped back up again in response, and Hermione couldn't help smiling into her coffee. _They were fighting, right next to her!_ Anytime recently the boys had been forced to sit by her, they'd been eerily reserved. Yet now – here it was again! The early mornings of listening to her best friends bicker (and often joining in) had been sincerely missed. Hermione could feel herself getting giddy at the progress.

The week's _Free Press_ was tossed carelessly all around the table; creased under full plates, tea-rimmed from spilling mugs. Hermione had offered a cursory glance at the headline when the post arrived, and was satisfied for once that it contained nothing more than tawdry drabble about someone else. Her disdain for the pamphlet seriously wavered when it didn't splash her own name. She could get over the general Hogwarts gossip.

Eyes following her quickly drifting mind, Hermione glanced across the hall.

Draco met her eye, and they shared little more than small smiles and soft winks in greeting before looking away. His eyes looked dark, heavy with fatigue. Hermione wasn't surprised. They'd left things last night on quite a dark note, parting without agreeing on when to meet next. Draco seemed to understand just as she did that they needed a couple days alone. They both needed to truly process what was going on both between them and around them.

Hermione herself was still stewing on the possible implications of Voldemort living in Malfoy Manor. Also - their relationship was getting serious, _really_ serious, and her brain buzzed over every detail of the shift. Her mind was running, replaying every word they'd said to each other – each touch they shared. Her memory kept coming back to a moment in the library a couple weeks before, playing over and over again how he comforted her from the world outside their little nook.

She glanced up once more. Her chest constricted. _Gods, she really liked him._ It felt sappy and embarrassing and amazing. She just wanted to see the crisp bounce of his meticulous morning hair as she ruffled it between her fingers. She wanted to feel that ring of his graze softly, coolly, against her skin.

Her eyes found him once more, and it seemed like the room went silent. Voices hushed, flatware stopped clinking, laughter faded.

It was only once she processed the darkly stoic look on Draco's face that Hermione realized the silence wasn't simply an imagining of her girlish heart. The hall truly had stilled, losing the early morning buzz. Everyone had stopped speaking at once.

Hermione followed Draco's gaze with a meek guess at what she might see. Draco had intimated as much last week, even if he'd faked being unsure. They both knew it was going to happen eventually. They just didn't want to admit it.

The group was striding past the hall's imposing doorway, crimson robes swishing with each purposeful step. Weight settled within Hermione's stomach. _How could they do this?_ Hermione was just as uncomfortable with Theo as anyone else would be, but did that really make him a murderer? Did being born into the wrong family and having one wrong skill make someone worthy of Azkaban? Did just being a suspicious character warrant a loss of freedom?

An answer rumbled in Hermione's chest, snaking up her throat, but she choked it down. This wasn't the right time. _She wasn't the right person_.

Five of the imposing figures flanked the Slytherin table. With each student they passed, another face went hard, Slytherin mask slipping coolly into place. Behind them walked Dumbledore, passively mirroring each step.

Theo didn't move at their arrival. His hands looked to be locked within Pansy's, their eyes speaking silently to avoid any would-be eavesdroppers. A pin drop would have echoed.

"Theodore Solomon Nott, you are being placed under arrest in connection with the disappearance of Blaise Zabini."

Hermione watched with rapt attention as Theo and Pansy shared a brief, solemn nod. The movement of detaching themselves looked painful, and Hermione felt her heart pump faster in a deeply human sympathy. Theo silently and slowly raised his wand, resting it on the table in front of him.

The thundering voice continued narrating every moment of Theo's arrest. It's unwavering drone faded into background noise, an inescapable humming that would forever accompany this new chapter of Hogwarts' history.

In her mind, Hermione found herself reeling with the morning's shock. Surely, death and danger weren't new for Hogwarts. But if she'd had to guess who'd be arrested for murdering who – she might have only guessed half right. She'd likely have actually contended the idea of a student being arrested at all.

Theo's deliberate movements did little to ease the hall's tense atmosphere. Students either bowed their heads or watched in shocked silence. Professors froze where they sat.

No one had quite realized the magnitude of the situation until now. Blaise was missing, yes – but he was out of sight, out of mind. It was a sad truth, but a genuine one. The disappearance of Blaise had faded in and out of importance all term, only seeming like a real threat when Katie had been attacked. Theo had been suspicious, maybe, but he was still there, lingering in the castle, sitting in lectures, passing affections with his girlfriend. The implications everyone had weighed upon him hadn't seemed quite real until just now.

* * *

But they _were_ real. Theo was being tried for them, walked off wandless and alone.

Hermione turned her body once again, gorging on deep breaths and self-consoling nods.

With each measured step, her mind wavered in another direction. _Should she enter – should she not?_ Nothing deadly lay behind the threshold, but she feared what might otherwise be waiting.

The morning's events passed behind her eyes once more. A peer she'd known sparingly for years was escorted from the Great Hall by a pack of aurors. A boy who'd cheered at years of Quidditch games. A wizard who'd broken the boundaries of her mind. A man who'd made her question her personal safety.

Was it right? Was she naïve to hope for something concrete to really justify his arrest? No one else seemed to be concerned. Rather, they jeered at his comeuppance. The evil Slytherin, finally facing his life's fitting justice. _But,_ Hermione felt dredging in her gut, _does arrogance and superiority a murderer make?_

The answer resounded in her mind, meek but unquestionable.

 _No._

It wasn't there, the evidence she wanted. And, she just needed to know – why? Why was Theo crushing under the Ministry's thumb when no one could prove his guilt? Had she done this to him? Falsely propped him up for suspicion without reasonable evidence?

Another question, a feeling, squeaked in her mind. It demanded just enough attention to bug her and distract her mind from what was truly important. _Malfoy Manor._ Should she tell? Dumbledore, The Order, they might be able to do something, wouldn't they? For a moment, she would do it. It was the right thing to do, wasn't it? They could help, this might turn the tides and deliver the upper hand they'd been searching for.

And in the next moment, it was gone. She couldn't dream of telling. This was Draco's _life_ she was toying with, even if she looked beyond the breach of his trust. How could she turn to him and explain that she'd sold him out? There was no way for her to guarantee his safety, or his parents, if The Order went crashing in.

Voldemort would be after Draco then, if she told. How else could The Order have found out, if Draco hadn't turned _traitor_? She might be dooming him to be a casualty of war with just four words. _Voldemort's in Malfoy Manor._

No. She couldn't – _she wouldn't_.

Determination flooded through her chest, spreading through her limbs. She was off, pushing herself forward. With one fortifying breath and one determined step, she stood facing the dark gargoyle. The word fell from her lips with great effort.

"Shock-o-choc."

The grinding chorus echoed in the still corridor. Hermione waited with baited breath as the pathway was revealed to her. With each step, she felt her resolve grow. These words needed to be said, if for no reason other than to settle her own fears. She needed to know why Theo was being arrested.

"Ms. Granger."

His voice greeted her before she could fully see his face. The office revealed itself in waves as she rounded the final steps.

Meeting his piercing eyes, she responded, "Headmaster."

"Chocolate frog?" Dumbledore asked, vague amusement filtering through his voice.

"No, thank you."

The office air felt heavy around her. Hermione's skin vibrated against the tension sweeping through her. This was to be an unpleasant conversation. Now that she'd arrived, she hesitated to begin.

Dumbledore's eyes stared unblinkingly into her fraught image. Once more, she feared for the privacy of her mind. Everything seemed secure, but his knowing stare set Hermione on edge. She pictured the white wall with all the force she could muster, but he seemed not to have noticed.

"Might I ask what's prompted this visit? I fear you've not come to ask an old man of his day."

Hermione appreciated his question. Should they hedge, she might lose the fleeting nerve she'd built on her way in. Half of her was already dreaming of turning around and marching right past the gargoyle again.

"No, Headmaster, I've not." She swallowed, meeting his gaze head on. "I'd like to discuss what happened today with Theodore Nott."

He allowed the silence to stretch, failing to meet her prompting. Forging ahead, she chose to lay her intentions bare for him.

"Is this truly justified?" Hermione shook her head in thought, clearing her quickly clouding mind. "As I'm sure you know, I've been trying to learn what I can of Zabini's disappearance. I just – am I missing something? I don't see how there's enough evidence to justify this morning's …" she paused, struggling to find a word adequate for what they'd witnessed, "charade."

Dumbledore peered at her over his half-moons. Any amusement had left his gaze, replaced with a blank stare and hidden emotions.

"I'm afraid you're speaking of things I'm unaware of, Ms. Granger."

"I don't know if I believe that, Headmaster." She met his eyes head on, holding herself steady. "Why would you allow the aurors to make their presence so clear these past weeks? Surely you've had the power to minimize the publicity of Nott's arrests, or even stymie the initial questionings."

His eyes thinned once more, scrutinizing her. Hermione waited him out, choosing to force the silence upon him.

"You expect quite a lot of me," he finally spoke. "Do you imagine I hold that kind of power over the Ministry, over the Auror Office, to control their investigations as I please?" With a knowing gleam in his eye, Dumbledore added, "you flatter me."

Hermione's chest tightened. He was skirting her question, avoiding the entire point. He was trying to divert her. She knew better than to bring up Order members here, even if she believed it private.

"I must ask then, Headmaster, of something I've been told you said recently." Hermione listened to the words as they left her lips. She knew she had to be careful. Dumbledore had never grown for her the fondness that he'd developed for Harry, or that McGonagall had for her. To be here in his office, questioning his judgement, already felt like she'd crossed some line.

"I apologize for the breach of what I understand to have been a private conversation." Dumbledore's eyes thinned nearly imperceptibly. Had Hermione not been watching them intently, she never would have known. "You said to Professor Snape, as I understand it, that ' _it would be too big for the Ministry to stay out of soon_ ,' or something to that effect. The context has been lost with time."

"What do you believe this conversation was concerning, to merit repeating?"

"The disappearance of Blaise Zabini, specifically with the publicly suspected involvement of Theodore Nott."

Dumbledore allowed the silence to hang between him. It had grown denser with every moment since her entrance. The weight washed over Hermione thickly, coating her skin. She felt every heavy breath that passed, _in, out, in, out,_ until the Headmaster spoke once more.

"I must allow Professor Snape's confidence to be spared, and permit that conversation to remain un-discussed, Ms. Granger," he smiled wanly. The intention was clear though, _no comment._

And once again, she'd asked, only to get nothing in return. What had she expected? That Dumbledore would surrender his plans to her? She knew he wouldn't. Harry had ranted about being in the dark one too many times for her to believe anything of the sort.

"But," she paused, trying to carefully choose every word before speaking again, "you had a hand in shaping the Ministry's actions with Nott, didn't you?" Hermione pressed forward. Almost physically she leaned into her accusations, leaning her collarbone forward, inching closer to the imposing desk. The moment she grew aware, Hermione leaned back once more, holding her spine to the chair.

"I'm once again flattered by your assumptions of my abilities."

"Not directly of course, but here within the castle, correct?" She returned her question quickly, tiring of the run-around. "You've maneuvered things just perfectly, stayed at just the perfect distance to allow fear to fester."

"My greatest concern is overseeing the education and safety of my students," he responded bluntly, clearly. "My time cannot be spared on the fruitless machinations of those outside these walls, especially when we both know the realities of our world."

 _If your greatest concern is the safety of your students, why would you let a murderer walk free for months?_

"Headmaster," Hermione started, only to be cut off.

"Forgive an old wizard, Ms. Granger, but is there something specific you'd like to ask me?" Behind the warm smile, Hermione could tell the Headmaster was growing as tired of her questions as she his answers. His eyes laid flat upon her own, searching. Again in that moment, she feared for the safety of her mind. Dumbledore was a known proficient legilimens, who was to say she just couldn't surely detect him?

"Do you genuinely believe Nott is responsible for the disappearance of Blaise Zabini? That Nott killed Zabini after term began?"

"Surely you must know that my opinion is meaningless on this matter?"

"Surely you don't expect me to believe that?" She responded quickly, jutting her words starkly against his own.

Silence reigned. Hermione tried again.

"Do you believe Theodore killed Blaise?"

"I will tell you this," he started, leaning back in his seat in mirror or her earlier movement, "that I choose to believe the best of all my students. Yet, as Headmaster of this school, my upmost concern is the safety of every single one of you. I must do what seems right at the time, and hope these castle walls will forgive any mistakes made from ignorance."

Hermione studied the words he spoke, trying to apply them to her earlier questions. He believed the best of his students, and his main focus was their safety. How could that possibly allow him to leave Theo roaming the halls, had he assumed guilt? It couldn't. It didn't make sense. Hermione eyed the Headmaster, both of them knowing she was repeating every word he'd spoken.

"And, given your high hopes and priority of safety, you wouldn't allow a murderer to walk these corridors if you had the option. I find myself agreeing with you, Headmaster. I don't think Nott's guilty, at least for the time being."

"I've said nothing of the sort, Ms. Granger."

Pregnant pause.

Hermione's mind wandered once more to Draco's familial pressures. If Dumbledore was willing to offer belief to Nott, maybe Draco could be pardoned just the same. She could feel herself wanting to try – test the waters and see if the chance was even there.

But – no. Not without Draco, without his acquiescence. And seeing how effective that pardon had been for Nott, she couldn't risk it. Hermione bit her cheek. It would risk his life. Now wasn't the time.

Hermione pivoted her thoughts, trying to focus solely on Theo's dire circumstances.

"Headmaster. Why are you – you allowing Theodore to be arrested for a crime you don't believe he committed? Why allow a Hogwarts student to remain missing for weeks without resolve?"

"People create their own catastrophes, Ms. Granger. I cannot control the actions of the world as you assume I can."

"So you'll choose not to even interfere, as you say? Simply wait side as students are attacked, missing, arrested?"

"I apologize you feel this way, but as I've said, I only do what I believe is best. You must forgive an old man for accepting his limitations."

"You're willing to allow Theo to be arrested for a murder he didn't commit? Or Blaise's disappearance to go uninvestigated?"

"As I've said Ms. Granger, people create their own realities. My personal beliefs on Mr. Zabini's disappearance are much less important in this drama. I'm sorry to say, Theodore is playing a much larger game than you can see for the moment, as is Mr. Zabini. This time for Theodore is necessary, as his becoming acquainted with the Auror Office is simply the catalyst for many larger events. I must facilitate what is best for our school," with a heavy pause, he continued, "what is best for our _society_."

"Our society," she repeated, understanding and rage buzzing a chorus in her bones. He thinks this will help The Order somehow. "This, yes – I understand, Headmaster. I'm just not sure if I agree that this outcome is as certain as you feel."

"As I've said Ms. Granger, I must hope that these walls will forgive the mistakes I make in ignorance. I don't make these decisions lightly."

"You – you're _sacrificing_ him, with full knowledge he's innocent?" Hermione knew her words were out of line. Dumbledore hadn't truly admitted to anything, just heavily intimated. It was just – unfathomable, martyring Theo like this.

"I must ask that you refrain from speaking on things you don't understand, as I have done," he spoke with measured calm he clearly didn't feel.

"Then, Headmaster, I must ask in return that you explain this to me. What do you believe will happen for Theo at the Ministry? What do you expect to come from his arrest that will spark such a chain reaction?"

"I do believe you know the answer to that question, and it would do neither of us well to speak of it aloud much longer."

"How – how could I possibly know?" Hermione's whirring mind was at a loss. She had not a clue as to what he expected.

"I always find that working together on a problem makes the solution so much clearer." His eyes laid heavy on her once more, and Hermione found herself trying to memorize every word he spoke. "I appreciate your visit this evening, Ms. Granger."

* * *

Hermione couldn't stop running over those final words in her mind. _Catalyst for many larger events._ This – this was ridiculous! Dumbledore was trying to play puppet master with all of these lives, with no assurance! He wouldn't even tell her what he was trying to do!

Hermione sat at her usual table in the library and quilled a note to Draco, damning their de facto silence this evening. She needed to talk this out. He always seemed to follow her jumbled thoughts and help find the right answer.

Maybe he was the friend Dumbledore wanted her to talk to? The thought made her want to scrunch up her parchment in spite.

 _Went to Dumbledore's office this afternoon. Skip dinner – meet me in the library._

Hermione sent the note off with a twinge in her gut. Dumbledore had told her something, hadn't he? And yet – she couldn't figure it out.

Dumbledore was allowing Theo to be arrested for Blaise's disappearance, even when he and Snape didn't believe he was guilty. _But … how did they know,_ she kept asking herself. Dumbledore implied they had another prevailing theory on where Blaise was, but she'd lost her train of thought to follow up on that in the moment.

Soon, the parchment flew back, landing swiftly on the desk in front of her. Unfolding the small note, she saw his scrawl printed directly below her own.

 _Go to dinner, eat. Meet in my dorm after, I'll let you in. 7:45._

Hermione found herself smiling at his note. He never could just agree on the first try, always wanting things on his time, adjusting plans as they suited him. Against her better judgement, she found it endearing. It wouldn't be a bad idea to get dinner anyways. She needed to see Harry and Ron, continue making progress with them.

Setting the parchment away from her notes, she set it aflame. Her mind locked on the charred ashes for only a moment before she vanished them. There was too much to think about for her to be distracted any longer.

Hermione picked up her quill once more. She unrolled her Potions essay, determined to finish the final inches before dinner.

* * *

Draco had met her by the portrait at 7:45pm on the dot.

They'd made eyes a few times at dinner, but Hermione was much too distracted by her friends to focus on much else. Harry and Ron had engaged her in nearly-cordial banter a few times, and tolerated her joining in when they caught up on the day's events. Things were slowly but surely heading toward normal, and she couldn't appreciate it more.

Something had nibbled at her mind as time passed, though. Hermione couldn't help fearing that with each new development, that it would just _be_ the new normal. As she thought back to it now, Hermione could feel the pit in her stomach sinking, digging deeper than she believed possible. It felt as though a boulder had fallen from her chest, weighing down her entire being.

 _Maybe they'd start asking her cordial questions and just never move beyond that_ , she fretted. They'd relegate her to casual acquaintance and nothing more. It made her throat tighten with undeniable sorrow.

Draco sealed the curtains, and only then did Hermione come back to the present. Her mind had been totally absent as they'd walked up through the common room. She hadn't even considered how many students might be milling about in the Slytherin commons, just waiting to catch her.

"So why did Dumbledore call for you?"

Hermione shook her head, "he didn't. I went to see him."

Draco's brow quirked, and Hermione took it as cue to continue.

"It's just – Theo's arrest seems so off, doesn't it? Dumbledore didn't have to let that happen, especially as many times as it did, there in front of everyone, in the Great Hall? He knew something, of course. Don't you remember what I told you, about Harry overhearing Snape and Dumbledore talking?"

The muscles in Draco's jaw tensed momentarily, but Hermione noticed nonetheless. Too wrapped up in the cryptic words of their headmaster, she ignored his response.

"Not at all. What did he hear?"

"I did tell you, I know I remember. Harry heard Snape and Dumbledore whispering in some corridor about the Ministry. _It'll be too big for the Ministry to stay out of soon,_ or something to that effect."

"Hmm," he seemed to think on this for a moment. "Odd, for certain. Did you actually tell him about scarhead's eavesdropping?"

"I _might_ have mentioned that I heard this from _Harry,_ but that's not what matters here. I went to ask him why he's allowing Theo to be arrested even when he believes him innocent. We both know that if Dumbledore wants something at the Ministry, he usually has plenty of sway." Hermione shook her head, still trying to piece her thoughts together. "Theo – Dumbledore admitted he thought him innocent, and that he had other ideas as to what happened to Blaise."

"Like what? There's no way he actually knows and hasn't done anything about it."

"He didn't say, I didn't think to ask in the moment."

"Going soft there, Granger? Seems like the exact thing you'd want to know."

"Hush, will you? My mind was elsewhere, okay? And that's not all." Hermione watched as he forced a very convincing sneer, but continued anyways. "Dumbledore's so cryptic, just like Harry said. He told me that _people create their own catastrophes_."

"How melodramatic," Draco cut her off.

"Right? But this is the biggest part, Draco. Dumbledore told me that Theo's arrest was the _catalyst_ for a bunch of other events, and that he allowed it to happen for the good of society." Hermione sighed. "I just – that doesn't add up. If he thinks Theo is innocent, how is locking him up for the good of society? Wouldn't society be better off actually knowing why Blaise went missing? And what does he think is going to happen in the Auror Office?"

"Theo in the Auror Office as a catalyst? Wait – what did he say exactly?" Draco's hand shoots over to her forearm, physically grasping her attention. "No, don't you remember when I told you about this? Not long ago – it was like someone at the Ministry was specifically targeting Theo for some reason. They were blocking all of my father's efforts to help Theo. That could have, it _must_ have been Dumbledore somehow."

"I – I, yes! I do remember that! Do you really think Dumbledore could do that, manipulate the Ministry just to get Theo arrested?" Her mind drifted to the same two people it had before. Two aurors, who'd have been more than willing to listen to the headmaster on anything he suggested. _Could they? But why?_

Draco repeated his earlier question, wanting Hermione to repeat Dumbledore's words verbatim.

"I only remember so well, I'm telling you what I can." With a heavy breath, Hermione debated her next words. The sat on her tongue, though she knew it was the right thing to offer. "Just look yourself, okay? That way, we'll be on the same page."

Hermione looked away, not meeting his eyes. Her fingers picked at the hem of her skirt. "It's not like we haven't done it before," she said aloud, if only to remind herself. "It'll be quick, right?"

She looked up to Draco again, meeting his eyes, plastering a more calm smile over her lips than she truly felt. Draco nodded, and she returned the same. "I trust you," she said, honestly.

His wand raised, and she thought hard on Dumbledore's piercing eyes.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Saturday, December 14, 1996**

 _Peaches._

The scent hit Draco clearly as he woke slow. Every limb felt weighted, drowsy with the warm comfort of a long rest. His mind lingered on the waning emotions of dreaming. The golden joy, having bathed over him in sleep, faded too quickly as morning's cold reality crept over him.

Burrowing deeper into the warmth around him, he tried in vain to recapture the pleasant calm he'd felt while unconscious. It had become so rare in the waking hours. Draco kept his eyes closed, focusing on the last glimpses of happiness he could remember, but with every second they slipped further away. Day had come, and the comfort he'd felt was gone once again.

He realized then, that the subtle peach scent should have faded as well. Yet, there it was, just as strong beside him. Then, feeling a tickle at his chin, Draco couldn't contain the small smile slipping over his lips.

 _Hermione._

She'd slept here again, with him. They must have fallen asleep the night before, still rambling absently in every which direction. He nuzzled his chin lower, reveling in the renewed golden warmth he felt at holding her. Draco basked in the content feeling spreading in his chest. Hermione had become a ray of light for him. Even knowing all the risks, somehow he couldn't stop himself from coming to truly enjoy her company. Through all the trouble their being together caused – she made every moment sweeter.

If only that trouble didn't exist.

With the swellings of anxiety creeping back in, Draco creaked his eyes open against the dim light. The dorm's silence felt eerie. For years, he'd woken on Saturday mornings to the sound of Theodore rumbling about, shuffling parchments and galleons before leaving the room. Blaise had often slept in later, and every so often a rumbling snore would seep thought his curtains. Now Draco couldn't help but focus on the deafening silence around him.

Draco raised a hand to rub at his eyes. His mind was plagued with doubts and fears once again. Even half asleep and barely conscious, he still couldn't escape the future.

"How can you be grumpy already? You just woke up," Hermione whispered. She'd tilted her head just enough to peek at him, still snuggled tight in the spot she'd been sleeping. "No need to frown just yet."

A corner of his lip quirked with the hint of a smile. Draco glanced at her peeking eyes.

He'd been right behind those eyes the night before – looking in her mind. With every sliver of trust she shared with him, Draco nearly keeled over in shock. How could Hermione be so willing to open up to him? She had let her guard down once again last night, and he respected her on a level he'd never known. Never had he felt this close to another person.

"You're right, Peaches," he responded quietly. Instead of trying shake his frown, he instead tucked his face closer to the pillow and held his arms tighter around her body.

He tried to rebrand the silence in his mind. _Less eerily uncomfortable,_ he told himself _, more peachy calm._

"Did you – "

Draco hummed in query, confused at her sudden cut off. He could feel her head shake against his neck before she turned, adjusting her body to face him fully. The warmth from her skin on his shifted, and patches of his chest suddenly felt too cool.

"What were you saying?" Draco asked again, pulling away just slightly to glance down at her. Her morning hair obscured most of her face, but he could peek just a sliver of blushing red on her cheek.

Hermione ignored him, hiding her face further against his chest. "Nothing, never mind," she whispered even lower than before.

Still confused, he decided to simply close his eyes and hold her tighter.

Draco decided right then that he truly enjoyed waking up with Hermione at his side. It was mental, of course, but he'd found someone to share the silence with.

For a fleeting moment, he pictured them waking up together in the future. Maybe there would be a window, with the light of sunrise just barely illuminating the bed. Maybe she'd cuddle closer to his chest just like this, holding him as tight as he held her. Maybe he'd kiss her with a quiet _good morning,_ and his stomach wouldn't sink at the prospect of leaving, because he'd always come back to her. There would be no more secrets between them, just understanding.

Draco allowed himself these fantasies for only a moment. It was dangerous to think that way, knowing it impossible. This couldn't last much longer. Every second he pretended, it only hurt that much worse to remember the truth. He had no future. He had no Hermione. This was just a momentary lapse of judgement for her. She'd move on without him.

He was surely doomed from the start, though. Draco had realized recently that his life wasn't meant to be lived, but to simply be used, manipulated by men greedier than he. Death would come too soon, and it would be as though that golden, gleaming future he'd imagined had never existed.

His mind sunk then to the inky mark of hatred that had been burned in his arm months ago. If only –

 _Wait – Theo! His mark!_

"Hermione – I know what it is!" The words fumbled from his lips before another second could pass. Draco raised his head from the pillow, his mind racing.

Her only response was a grumble, tucking her face tiredly against his chest again.

"The aurors are going to see Theo's mark, that's what Dumbledore is hoping will happen." Draco tried again, stressing the importance. "That's what he was talking about _society_ for."

Once she'd understood the words, Hermione sat up immediately. One hand flit around his heard, pushing her wild hair off and away. Draco could nearly see the gears turning in her mind.

"He said – he said it was for the good of society." She paused, furrowing her brows for the moment's thought. "Draco, you've got to be right! How did we not even think of that last night?" Curls flailed in every direction as Hermione shook her head. "This has to be it, isn't it? If that mark goes public somehow, what happens then?"

Draco listened to her ramble, knowing not to jump in while she worked through the same path he'd just followed.

"People would panic, the Ministry would have to change their entire stance. How could they justify a Hogwarts student having that mark if he _wasn't_ back?" Her voice dropped to a constant hum, buzzing as though it was the sound of her spinning mind.

Finally the gears sounded to slow, and she looked up to meet Draco's eyes. "So if this is it – if this has been his plan all along, what happened to Blaise?"

"Hermione, I – I don't know," he responded quietly.

"But – but he has to be _somewhere,_ right? It's _Dumbledore_ we're talking about here! He wouldn't just let Blaise go missing, and just let everyone ignore what must have truly happened! That's – that's not him! He must know Blaise is safe, right? Helped him leave the castle? Or another Professor did it, and he knows?"

Draco didn't have the stomach in that moment to disagree with her. Hermione's wide eyes bore into him, and he could feel how torn she was.

"He _must_! Otherwise – he's let one student go missing, another get attacked, and has just ignored it."

A pit lodged in Draco's stomach. They hadn't Katie's _incident_ much, thankfully, but Hermione was dead sure it was related to Blaise's disappearance.

"I mean –" she continued, "Theo would have to have _killed_ one student and _seriously injured_ another, and Dumbledore just let it happen? _Twice_? No – it can't have been Theo. That's just, it's despicable! Dumbledore couldn't have."

Hermione didn't notice the ripple of pain and disgust cross over Draco's face through her rant.

 _Despicable._ That's what he was, right from her own mouth. She'd practically begged to know what his task was, only a week ago. _I'm here,_ she'd said, _willing to help._ Each word crumpled in his mind. How could she really help him after she learned what he had to do? After what he'd _already done_?

"This – this is going to be so good for Harry, they're finally going to believe him. Everyone's going to believe him!" The pitch of her voice rose, and emotion creeped steadily underneath. " _Why_ aren't I happy? I – maybe I should go tell him?"

"Hermione – that's," he started, only to be cut off by the wild shaking of her head.

"I _know,_ I know. I just can't help it. Harry and Ron – I've told them everything for years. This has been so hard on Harry, having no one believe him, especially after what happened with," she paused, clearly catching her own loose tongue, "with the tournament." The emotion splayed clear across her face, and Draco felt himself empathize with the pain she felt.

He remained silent, unsure of what to offer. Instead, he simply placed his hand heavy against her back, rubbing small circles.

Silence reigned again, until her voice suddenly piped again. Her tone had switched now. Gone was the watery emotion, replaced instead with a forced, girly laugh. "This is – this is just ridiculous." One of her hands raised, and with a quick swipe dried her watery eyes. "Dumbledore wouldn't do that, and we're going to prove it."

Draco cocked his head instinctually, surprised at the blunt determination in her tone.

"We're – going to prove _what,_ exactly?" His voice came out softer than intended as he tried to force away any condescension. Draco knew that would only make this worse, intended or not.

"We're going to prove that Blaise is out there – and that he's _fine_. He must have gotten out of the castle somehow. Clearly he wasn't looking to support Voldemort anymore. Maybe he didn't know what to do, and he just left. We'll find him."

Draco eyed her, searching for the joke.

"And then," he paused to wait for some unlikely punchline, "do what with him?"

He was half sure this was pointless anyways. It was only a matter of time until Theo was convicted for Blaise's murder, (rightly, as Draco saw it). Hermione could walk every inch of the earth and never find Blaise. Knowing what to do with him was pretty much a moot point.

But Draco knew he'd be dead by that point, so he wasn't sure why he cared anyways.

Hermione didn't seem fazed. She simply sat up straighter and nodded to herself. The whole idea had taken root and settled in her mind.

"Well, we'll bring him back here, of course. We're going to prove that Theo didn't kill him. Theo might be mean, and _bigoted,_ and a hundred other horrible things, but he didn't kill Blaise."

Draco envied her decisiveness – if only he could be so sure.

"Hermione – I, I understand that you don't want to believe Dumbledore would let Blaise go missing and not look for him, I really do. But, really, how do we know that isn't exactly what happened? We have no idea if Theo killed Blaise or not." If Draco had to bet, he felt pretty solid that he'd be the one collecting coins at the end, and Theo wouldn't be around to see him gloat.

"I just know, Draco. If you can't believe me – that's fine, I get it. I just need you to trust me." Her hand reached out, grasping his knee. "I can feel it in my gut, Theo didn't do this – Blaise is out there. Dumbledore just _isn't_ that cruel."

Draco felt himself pause then. Something about the level of Hermione's voice had struck him in the chest. It had pulled him out of the moment. His eyes studied her, trying to take in the whole moment while he could. She'd slept in his sweater, and it draped just barely over the curve of her shoulder. Her brows had pulled together. They fit her hazel eyes well, emphasizing the determination in her every glance.

She'd propped herself to lean on one cocked arm, the other still reaching forward to hold his knee. Her legs were splayed aside, hidden under his dark bedsheets. Every part of her was otherwise washed in the dungeon's grey morning light. It tinged the normal shade of her skin, and he could see the difference clearly on her bare collarbone, across the curve of her cheek, over the crease of her arm.

He met her eyes again.

"I trust you," he replied without hesitation. How could he say anything else? "We'll try. We'll look, okay?"

As he said it, Draco knew it was a lie. A week from now, she'd be traipsing the continent alone. He'd already be dead.

It tore a pit in his stomach to even think of how close his time had come. The feeling sloshed like boiling firewhisky through this torso. His chest tightened. He was sure, had he tried to speak, he would have failed. There was no air left in his chest. Draco tried to think of other things, desperate to distract himself. All he could focus on was the heartbeat thundering in his ears.

"We'll go to those homes you were talking about." Hermione continued, quelled by his agreement. "Even that one you said he wouldn't go to – the French one, that your father was helping Ms. Zabini hide." She nodded to herself. "We'll go when everyone else is boarding the train! Yes – yes, no one will notice we're not there. We can sneak into Dumbledore's – "

"I – " it felt as though his throat was closing. He swallowed, and it felt dry. With a forced breath deep into his lungs, he tried once more. "I don't want to think about this right now," and seeing Hermione take a quick breath, preparing her response, he quickly added, "please. I just – I want to lay back down, and not think about anything else but this. Okay?"

Hermione kept explaining what they were to do on their grand search for Blaise, but Draco tuned her out. He couldn't stomach making these plans, pretending he'd be around to do these things with her. No – he'd let her make those plans alone, because that's exactly how she'll be carrying them out.

Alone.

Draco adjusted himself next to her in the small bed, moving to lay on his back. His eyes burned holes in the dark canopy ceiling.

Some time passed like this – Hermione gradually developing a plan to track down Blaise (who she was _sure_ was alive and simply hiding out in some remote villa) and Draco pretending he was already dead.

Until –

 _Knock-knock._

The sharp noise pulled Draco from the pit he'd fallen in. Hermione jolted as well, halting her plans for the moment.

"Did someone just knock?" Her voice was a clear mix of confusion and concern. "I thought the other boys left earlier."

Draco gave a lethargic nod, "something must have come for me at breakfast post." He moved up to stretch, knowing he couldn't ask Hermione to answer for him. "The other upperclassmen are good about bringing people post they missed if it looks important." He hadn't realized they'd been in bed that long, but now his anxiety returned at knowing what then envelope likely said.

Hermione moved away from the curtains, and Draco leaned himself forward. Even with the dorm supposedly empty, he was careful to not reveal her while he slipped out. It was muscle memory at this point, keeping her locked away between his bed curtains.

In another moment he'd crossed the stone flooring, opened the door, and then the single envelope was weighing down his hand.

 _D. Malfoy,_ was all the envelope said. That was enough for him to immediately wish for a fire to engulf both him and the parchment. There was no doubt in Draco's mind as to who's imposing and swift _M_ was written there. It was his father's final directive – _kill Dumbledore on the last night of classes._ Without breaking the seal, Draco could see the words behind his eyes. They'd long been seared there in his fears. _Meet at the gate._

Draco made the steps back to bed, desperately trying to shove down his feelings the whole way.

After he'd agreed to think about accepting her help two weeks ago, he truly had. He'd thought of what a ridiculous and foolish idea that would be. If only he was that colossally ignorant of the situation's reality.

She'd wouldn't be able to help his family escape, save him from prosecution, guarantee their safety. He'd have to turn against everything that was barely keeping him safe and just rely on Hermione's word. She certainly hadn't spoken to Potter, or Dumbledore, or whoever else she was working with on this.

It was an empty promise, and he didn't want to hear it again.

"Was it _The Prophet_?" Hermione asked right as he returned, "They must have something in there this morning about Theo." Her eyes scanned his hands before coming up short.

"It wasn't." His voice came out short, but Draco couldn't have stopped it. Lucius was shoving Draco's future down his throat, and he was choking on it. The delicacies of his tone when he spoke to a girl who he _didn't even know_ what she was to him, wasn't his biggest concern.

"Oh," she replied, voice soft.

Silence struck again as Draco rejoined her in the bed. He was in no mood for speaking, and by now she'd gotten the hint. Draco dropped the letter on his side table and laid down. The only sound was of their breathing, steadily filtering in and out of the small space.

Draco considered asking her to leave, but decided against it almost immediately. He liked having her here, pride be damned. Asking Hermione to leave would just make the pounding in his skull worse. Then he'd truly be alone.

* * *

"Draco," Hermione whispered. Her words pierced the ominous stillness they'd created for the last ten minutes – she couldn't have taken another second.

Aside her, he seemed to jump at the small sound of her voice. Clearly he'd gone elsewhere in the time she'd spent mulling over what to say. Hermione waited for some other acknowledgement, but nothing came.

He'd been quiet most of the morning, but that letter had changed something. The silence had become brooding now. Hermione had a few guesses as to what it could be, but she knew it related to the dark cloud that had been hovering over him all term. Draco's _task_ as Pansy called it. The thing that would keep Draco from coming back next term. The thing Hermione pretended to be too busy to think about. The thing she pretended didn't exist.

"Draco – term's almost over."

"Hadn't noticed." His reply was quick. The message was clear – he didn't want to talk.

"I know," she paused, trying to swallow around her anxious dry mouth. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but we have to."

He finally turned his head against the pillow, meeting her eyes.

"No we don't."

"But we _do,_ " she shot back. "You told me you were being asked to do something. Something you – " Draco tried to but in, but Hermione forced her voice to continue, "you weren't sure you wanted to do whatever it was."

"Hermione – _don't._ " The strength in his words were unmistakable. Hermione had crossed a line, and he needed her to stop. She wouldn't – she couldn't.

"You told me that," Hermione stopped to force a deep breath, preparing her voice to continue steady. "You told me that you wouldn't be back next term."

Draco sat up beside her, and Hermione startled at the swift jerk. His face was reddening with an anger and discomfort she couldn't remember seeing on him before.

"Draco, term's almost over. What's going on?"

She waited. When Draco continued to stare at her, wordless, she spoke again.

"Have – have you done it yet?"

Her meek question was met with a stark laugh, devoid of any true humor. Hermione sat up at the discomforting sound. Laying down aside his sitting figure made her small, powerless. As she leaned her back against the stone wall, he finally spoke flatly in response.

"If I had – _you'd know_." Trust me on that, if anything."

"Draco, you can just _tell_ me, please." She hated this. It boiled her insides to beg for him to save himself. "I want to help you." Her own voice sounded childish in her ears.

"No, I can't just _tell_ you. Stop acting like I can!" Draco shook his head forcefully, running a hand through his already mussed hair. "Once it's done, I can never come back here." Hermione heard the sadness pierce his voice then. She couldn't imagine being in his shoes – to be forced from Hogwarts forever. "A week from now it'll be done, and I'll have to leave here forever."

"It doesn't have to be that way," she whispered. Tears pooled in her eyes, burning and misting her vision. "You can tell me, or tell me _something,_ and we can find you a way out of this."

" _Stop_ saying that!" Draco snapped, his voice rising in the cold stone room.

Drops spilled from Hermione's eyes, barely passing over her reddening cheeks before she harshly wiped them away. Emotion was rising in her, seemingly impossible to stop. Hermione wished she could turn off her emotion just for that moment. She wanted to convince him rationally, lay out her arguments and just _prove_ how right she was. Tears helped nothing.

Seeing the shining tracks on her cheeks, Draco's anger visibly cooled, looking away from her.

It only raised the ire in Hermione's blood. _He wasn't taking her seriously,_ she thought. _He'd seen her cry, and now it was over. She was the fanatical girl – irrational and emotional._ Hermione nearly punched at the bed below them, her anger coiling ever tighter inside her.

"You don't know _anything_ about what I have to do," Draco shook his head, quieter than before. "You can't just tell me to explain this to you, you can't pretend this is all that easy – okay?"

Hermione's anger was stark against his growing calm, and she bit her tongue to keep from lashing out.

"If you would just _trust_ me, though. I can help you, at least I can _try_ , and we can look for another option!"

"Another option? Really, Granger?" Hermione shrunk at the distance he'd imposed between them – twenty minutes crossed the span from _Peaches_ back to _Granger._ "I have less than a week left, and you think another option is just going to come out of thin air?"

"Of course I don't! I'm saying we'll _make_ one, we'll do whatever we have to. You need to know that you have a _chance_ Draco, don't you see that?" More tears slipped. Immediately her hand whipped up, swiping hard against her cheeks.

"No! You're bloody mad, witch! You're talking about chances, and options – and all I see is just _blackness_." Draco shook his head, and for a moment Hermione thought a tear had slipped from his eye as well. "There's no future for me, Hermione, just stop pretending there is."

Draco's hand raises then, dragging down his face like she'd seen him do a hundred times. Always when he was bored, or tired, or in the morning rubbing sleep from his eyes. But this time, she saw it – he was wiping a tear from his eye.

The moment hits her like a brick, thumping heavily against her chest. _No future._ That was all he thought of himself? _Darkness_? Hermione swore in that moment, her heart broke for the struggling wizard that sat beside her. He'd given up.

Tears slipped faster now. Hermione gave up on stopping them, deciding it futile.

Images came to mind – things she'd pretended to forget for weeks now. Hermione had told herself she didn't imagine some kind of future with Draco. She'd distracted herself, constantly trying to manage her own mind. Now – they came like a flood.

Soft mornings, with light barely filtering onto the sheets, laying against him. Stops for coffee, teasing him for getting tea every time. Watching him press those bloody shirts he wears, because she just _knows_ he does it by hand. Feeling him bite her neck as she unlocks the front door, waiting to be pushed inside. Debating her latest read, because he doesn't know anything about muggle literature and she just wants him to _try_ one book.

Things she pretended she didn't want.

"That's," she pauses to swallow, hearing the scratch of her voice. "That's not all there is, Draco." She shakes her head, allowing every tear to fall freely down her face. "There can be more."

"You're not going to change my mind," he repeats, turning his head meeting her eyes. "I have to do this – or I won't be the only one who dies."

"Stop saying that! You can change this, we can do it together!" She cries at Draco, shaking her head. Hermione can hear her voice rise, but can't stop herself. Every word he speaks in that defeated voice is like a punch to her gut. She isn't sure how long she can keep doing this.

"I can't – "

"Isn't it better to _try_ , even if you fail?" She pushes him again, unwilling to hear yet another blank denial. "Isn't it better to try and fight for what's _right_?"

Draco doesn't respond. The silence looms, and Hermione can feel in press her down, digging into her shoulders. Cool air drafted over every patch of exposed skin, sending chills down her spine. Hermione could feel the fizzle of anger start to dissipate. Both of them were losing the will to fight. No one would be changing their mind this evening.

The stab of defeat, the exact twinge she'd heard in Draco's voice, shot through Hermione's chest.

She tried to remember the feeling she'd reveled in earlier. They'd woken up, still loose limbed and rubbing sleep from their eyes. They'd been cuddling – and he called her _peaches._ Her cheeks had pinked, and the warmth had spread over her chest.

Hermione looked over at him, the wizard she'd woken up with. They both had rested their backs against the stone wall, but now his shoulders slumped forward, his arms circling his risen knees. Wayward chunks of blond fringe fell over his face, shielding his downcast eyes.

The angle of his jaw seemed sharper than she'd come to know it, and his cheeks shallower. Stress was written over every square inch of his body. His normally pale skin surprised her in the growing morning light. It was paler somehow, almost sallow. With the right push, she feared he might collapse inward.

 _I hate this_ , she thought to herself. _Why does it have to be this way_? Hermione wanted to lay back down, curl into a ball, and cry. She kept thinking to herself how unfair this was. They were so _young,_ why can't this just be easy?

They find each other, against all odds, and he wants to give up? Just like that?

Hermione watches him for a minute more before scooting closer, leaning her head against his fallen shoulder. She waits, praying for him not to flinch at her touch. Draco keeps still – the only movement she sees is the slow rise and fall of his chest. Hermione turns her nose into his shoulder, nudging at him softly.

"I get scared too," she whispers into the bare of his shoulder. "I don't know what's going to happen," she pauses, weighing her words, "or if I'll survive."

Draco remains stony, and Hermione worries for a moment that he may not hear her speaking so quietly. Her nose nudges at him again, hoping for any response at all.

When nothing comes, she speaks again.

"I might die – but, Draco, I'll have fought for what's _right,_ and done what I believed in."

At that, Draco's head turns. He faces toward Hermione, resting his head on his arm closest to her. The room is still, and the silence seems less ominous now. The wave had come and passed. They'd pushed, and pulled, and now they just sat there, seeing each other.

"I can't do this, Hermione."

Hermione pulls away and nods, even though she doesn't know what he means. Her tears grew strong again, slipping from her eyes. The soft, broken sound she'd heard in his voice had taken any will she had left. Hermione didn't want to fight him.

"Okay, Draco." Hermione is still nodding as she tries to remove herself from him, detangling their legs, pulling back, finding her clothes.

The bed is silent as she readies herself to leave. Neither of them speak.

Hermione turns to open the curtains, her hand barely moving to part the seam before she turns back. Meeting Draco's empty eyes, she pauses.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she says.

"So you can try to change my mind again?" He asks flatly.

Hermione sniffs, her eyes skating over his features with an unmistakable sadness.

"So you're going to leave for forever in less than a week, and now I can't even spend time with you?" Her voice is watery, threatening to break. Hermione keeps her eyes on his, forcing a response.

Draco watches her in silence, and Hermione feels the seconds pass between them.

"Tomorrow."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thanks to everyone reading! I appreciated hearing all your thoughts on the last few chapters, and look forward to seeing what you think of this one! Yet another marathon character study of Draco and Hermione.


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